And I Will Come Again, My Luve
by kcl71
Summary: The Reunion of Anna Devane & Duke Lavery
1. Part 1: Enter the Poseur

Enter the Poseur

Somewhere in Brazil, 1989

He walked into the room and laid his single suitcase on the luggage rack. The atmosphere was more that of a resort spa than a medical clinic, but he didn't notice. He opened the suitcase to remove just one item: the photo of the woman and child. He placed it in the middle of the dresser, where, had it indeed been a vacation spot, there would surely have been a mirror. This room, like every other in the facility, had none. It was a deliberate omission. Most guests were there to literally shed their skin in a search for a new life. His presence was part of a desperate attempt to recapture his old life.

He'd seen the puzzlement on the lovely face of the nurse/hostess who'd checked him in. "What was this man doing here?" he knew she'd wondered. "Why change that face?" He'd felt it in the way she'd looked at him and let her hand brush his as she handed him the pen to sign the registry. He wasn't vain, but he did have his pride, built up over the years by the many beautiful women who'd looked at him with admiration in their eyes. And there had been a time-not so many years ago, though it seemed another lifetime-when he would have flirted right back. He may even have gladly brought her to this room to see more of the tawny skin, full lips, and perfect breasts that most likely had benefited from the talents of her employer.

But no more. Now, the only woman he thought of was the one in the photo. And how would she view him when this face was gone, replaced with one unfamiliar to both of them? How he had loved the way she'd looked at him. The first time they'd met she'd been wide-eyed for a moment, a gorgeous gamine in the headlamps of his gaze. And then on their wedding night, she'd pleaded to open her eyes and look at him, declaring him everything she'd ever wanted in a man…. Would she still want him that way, when he had a face not his own?

It was a risk he had to take. Better to have her look upon him as a stranger than to never be able to see her again.

He slowly came out of the anesthesia with a blinding, pounding headache. He put his hand to his temple and realized his head was free of bandages. So was his entire face. That was odd, he thought. Surely he should be nearly mummified after the extensive work the plastic surgeon was meant to do. Then he realized the throbbing in his head was the only discomfort he felt. The doctor had warned him to expect significant pain-and large doses of drugs to help manage it. He certainly felt drugged, but his face felt fine. It was too much to think about now. He fell back into unconsciousness.

He woke again. The headache, thankfully, was gone. Now he felt merely numbed, drugged. Through his haze, he saw a man sitting across the room, watching him. Not the doctor. Who? And what was this room? It was not the room at the clinic.

He tried to shake himself awake, to clear his head, sit up, and look at the observer. The man was thin, with a sharp, angular face and straight, thin brown hair to his shoulders. It wasn't someone he recognized-and he knew he'd remember this person if he'd ever seen him before.

The man spoke. "Finally we meet, Mr. Duke Lavery." He had an accent, Germanic or Scandinavian. But they were in Brazil. Or he had been, anyway. What in god's name was going on?

"Who the hell are you?" Duke asked. How did this man know his name? He'd registered at the clinic under his witness protection identity, Daniel Lund. Duke Lavery was supposed to be dead. Why did this man know otherwise?

"My name is Faison. Cesar Faison. I'm an old friend of your wife."

"Anna? You know Anna? How? How do you know who I am? What's all this about?" He hated being at such an obvious disadvantage.

"She's an incredible woman, isn't she? And you seem to realize it. You were willing to go to great trouble for her. It makes me think perhaps you, unlike others, were even worthy of her. She certainly seemed to think so. It was almost as if you cast some kind of spell over her…."

Duke had a very bad feeling about this fellow, and his instincts were usually right. "You tell me right now, man: Where are we, and what do you want?"

"You should thank me, Mr. Lavery. I allowed you to spare that face that Anna Devane found so attractive. What you paid to your Brazilian physician-I doubled it in exchange for his turning you over to me."

"Why? What the hell is going on?" Duke was infuriated now. He wanted to jump up and shake some straight answers out of this Faison, but whatever the drugs in his system, they wouldn't allow it.

"You know of your wife's sad, gothic girlhood? Orphaned, raised by the kindly Nanny McTavish-who was my mother. We were childhood playmates, Anna and I. I loved her, just as you do, even then. But she didn't return that love, that loyalty. There was always someone else for Anna." The bitterness in Faison's voice made Duke's blood run cold. "I was able to come between her and Scorpio," Faison continued. "That wasn't hard-just a little blackmail, her DVX allegiance in return for sparing his life. I knew Scorpio would never forgive her the transgression. He's so black and white, Robert is. He doesn't understand the shades of gray, as do you and I, Mr. Lavery. As Anna does."

"If you harm so much as a hair on her head…"

"Harm her? Never. I've told you, my sole wish is to love her. But she doesn't make it easy. All these years, I've watched her, waiting for just the right time. After Scorpio, she managed to disappear. For seven years, I could find no trace of her. And then one day, from a small town, big headlines: The lady police chief disgraced by her mobster lover. So I bided my time, here in my Alpine retreat, and I watched, and I learned all I could. You quite impressed me, really. Somehow, you kept her coming back to you. Until the mob prevented that, once and for all. And now your loss, Mr. Lavery, shall be my gain."

"What do you mean, you watched her? You watched us? What could you possibly know about us?"

"Oh, many things. You'd be surprised at the information enough money can buy. And I have more than enough money. Enough to know about a quaint little cottage in upstate New York, by a lake. About an estate an hour north of Glasgow. About the cars you drove, and the rental space where Anna kept an office with Sean Donely, and the tidy suburban house with heather planted outside the front door. The garden needs weeding, by the way, and the lawn, cutting. I'm afraid Anna hasn't had the heart to keep things up since you've been gone. It's a pity.…"

Duke ached with yearning, homesickness, regret. He tried to concentrate on the problem at hand. "If you know so much, why am I here? What do you need me for?"

"I want to know what went on behind all those closed doors. I want to know the inner workings of Anna Devane's heart. With that knowledge, I can finally convince her to love me. And you, Mr. Lavery, are the one person in the world who can provide that information."

"Are you insane, man? If you know Anna at all, you know she's a strong-minded woman. You'll never trick her into loving you. And why the hell would I tell you ANYthing about her, anyway?"

"Because you have no choice. What are you feeling right now, Mr. Lavery?"

"Like I want to rip your head off your body."

"Then why don't you?"

Duke was taken aback, confused again. Faison had a point-why was he just sitting here? It was so hard to think straight. "Because…because…you've drugged me or something. What have you given me?"

"You've heard of sodium pentothal?"

"Truth serum?"

"But better. An even more powerful concoction that renders one extremely susceptible to suggestion. It will ensure that you tell me what I want to know, and that our Ms. Devane will listen to whatever I want her to hear. And best of all, for you, once you've shared with me your memories of Anna, they'll recede. You'll forget them. You'll forget her. No more yearning, no more pain. Why, I'm almost tempted to have a dose myself. Almost."

Duke was horrified. "You ARE mad. And if you don't let me out of here and let me go to Anna, your crazy plans won't matter. Because the mob that you claim to know about, they plan to kill her. Julian Jerome wants to murder her, and I need to stop him. That's what I was doing at that clinic in Brazil: I needed to change my appearance so I could get close enough to kill Julian before he gets to Anna."

"I told you," Faison assured him, "I've been watching. I know all about it. And I've already accounted for it. Don't worry, 'Duke Lavery'-with a new face and a new name-will indeed go to Anna, and will take care of Julian. Armed with your memories, he'll convince everyone. And then he'll meet an unfortunate, untimely end-clearing the way for me. But we won't tell him that last part, will we?" Faison smiled creepily.

Another man came in, a fellow with brown hair and shifty eyes who stood several inches shorter than Duke. "Listen well," Faison said to him, "and you'll earn your million dollars-and the considerable charms of Anna Devane."

Duke thought it impossible that Anna would ever believe this stranger to be him. It was even less possible that this Faison character could use Duke's love for Anna against her, for his own selfish ends. This could not be happening, Duke thought. This could not be real. This was like the plot of a third-rate, low-budget matinee thriller; it was not his life, not Anna's. The headache was descending again-even worse this time. He couldn't focus. He vaguely heard Faison calling to someone named Desiree. A woman entered with a syringe and came toward Duke to inject him with it. Even then he couldn't seem to think or move to stop her.

Next thing Duke knew, he was lost in memories of his Anna. They seemed so real, almost as if he were reliving them. From that first moment their eyes had met to the last, terrible moment, in the airport, when she had looked at him-she had seen him, recognized him…he knew she had, by the stricken look on her face. Without realizing it, he spoke of all of it, all three years of the most wonderful times of his life, and the most painful, and even the most private and intimate. And as quickly as they came to him, the remembrances melted away and were gone, just as the madman had promised.

He had no idea how long this went on. Hours? Days? Finally, there was nothing left but emptiness and the pounding in his head, and he slipped into the relief that was unconsciousness.

He woke up in a clean, spartan room, with a mind that was just as blank and clear as his surroundings. He got up and opened the suitcase at the foot of the bed, hoping for some clue as to who he was and what he was meant to do next. The suitcase contained nothing but fine clothing, neatly folded. He had a vague sense that something-something vitally important-was missing, but he had no idea what that might be. He turned to the dresser and picked up the wallet that lay upon it. Nice leather; it was a quality billfold. Flipping it open, he found a driver's license in the name of Daniel Lund. He looked in the mirror above the bureau, and the face that looked back matched the photo on the ID card. That must be him. Daniel Lund. The credit cards in the wallet all carried the same name. A money clip on the dresser held a very large sum of crisp new bills. Daniel Lund must be a successful man. Or he soon would be. He dressed in the well-tailored, well-pressed double-breasted suit that hung neatly in the closet, then walked out the door, determined to find out.


	2. Part 2: The Years in Between

**The Years in Between**

"I still don't understand why you let him live," Desirée said, unfastening the buckle of the ball gag. "It would've been easier just to kill him."

Spittle flew from Faison's lips as he answered her. "Only a fool believes his plan is foolproof. Do you think me stupid?"

She unfastened the leather cuffs binding his wrists. "Of course not."

"It seems Anna would do anything for him. So long as they're both living, he could prove useful. Why would I ever do away with such a valuable tool?"

He howled as she removed the nipple clamps.

Daniel Lund had led a comfortable life. As far as he could remember, anyway. It had not taken him long to find his occupation, after he walked out of his nondescript lodgings in search of an identity. That day his first order of business was, as one would expect, to fill his belly. He'd found his way to a small tavern, ordered a beer, and sat down to peruse the menu. As he tried to decide what would satisfy his considerable appetite-he felt as if he hadn't eaten in days-he noticed a pair of businessmen at a neighboring table harassing the young waitress. Blowhards both, one held out his menu toward the girl as if to hand it to her, then as she reached for it, pulled it away and instead tapped it atop the crown of her head. The second man laughed at his companion's antics, and the young woman smiled gamely. Weren't the customers always right, after all?

Daniel, already predisposed to crankiness thanks to his empty stomach, took umbrage on the girl's behalf. He stood and walked calmly to the table of his fellow diners. "Let's not give the lady too hard a time, shall we, gentlemen?" he smiled. "I wouldn't want her to spit in my soup because she's mistaken it for yours." He winked at the girl, who beamed at him, and clapped the laughing man on the shoulder. The hyena continued chuckling, and the other was compelled to join in. "I'll have the crab bisque, to start, and bring these two another round on me, please. Enjoy your meal, lads."

The pair enjoyed their drinks, yet kept their hands to themselves for the rest of their meal, and Daniel received the best service he could ever remember having-though granted he couldn't recall anything at all prior to that morning. The bisque was delicious, as was the rest of his meal-and the grateful waitress, it turned out, was the daughter of the tavern's proprietor. And so it was that Daniel Lund found himself employed as the day-to-day manager of one of the city's most popular lunch spots. It was an occupation that, with his combined charm and business sense, came naturally to him. And once he'd taken the tavern from a moderately successful bar and grill to the toughest reservation in town, he moved on to new challenges, reinvigorating many of Europe's finest restaurants and resorts.

Now, nearly 20 years on, he relished his life in Monte Carlo, where he helped to run the world's most storied casino. He loved the job and delighted in the perks it afforded him: the bungalow overlooking the Mediterranean; the Grande Prix–worthy automobiles; the fine clothing imported from the Italian tailors just across the blue-green harbor; the outboard cruiser on which he made the crossings for his fittings and from which he sought big-game fish. Any man would envy him. He knew he was lucky, and thoroughly enjoyed it all, especially the most enviable perk: the beautiful women. Flirting with the well-heeled wives of his high-rolling clients was expected-part of the job description, really, and he was exceptionally good at his work. Europe's most bold and beautiful, its young and restless, all flocked to his casino floor in search of holiday hedonism, and he was happy to oblige them in any way he could.

A flirt but not a cad, he knew the limits with other men's wives. When a lady was unattached, however…. Models, actresses, heiresses, minor royalty, risk-friendly business mavens were all fair game. More than once over the years, an affair had turned serious. He'd find that a spirited bedmate was in fact a kindred spirit, a bon vivant every bit his equal in confidence and ambition. Having first enjoyed her body, he'd come to enjoy her companionship and soon to care deeply for her. But no matter the woman, there was always something holding him back, something coming between them. He was not wholly aware of it; but the woman, she always knew. Intuition. "Is there someone else?" she'd ask. "Don't be silly, darling." She could never bring herself to believe him, not even when he clearly believed it himself. She would ask for a key to the bungalow-after all, she spent so much time there. The answer was always no, he adored her, he loved spending time with her, but it was his retreat, his haven, and he'd never fully shared that part of his life with anyone. As he said it, they'd both somehow know it wasn't true.

That was always the beginning of the end. Beside her in bed, he'd find himself having dreams in which he was happier than at any moment of his undeniably pleasant waking life. The instant his eyes opened, the images receded completely, fully inaccessible to his conscious mind. He'd look at her lying next to him and feel suddenly, inexplicably lonesome. And the harder he tried to recall the reveries that sweetened his sleep, the more melancholy he became. The effort only prompted headaches, as if he'd overindulged in champagne.

And so he would seek out a bottle and withdraw to the boat, the Annette, to distract himself with the pursuit of swordfish and tuna. When that failed, he would head north along the coast, tie up at one of the slips in Savona, and wander the waterfront. He felt at home there, somehow, though it was obvious that, whoever he'd been before he knew himself only as Daniel Lund, he certainly was not a local. Yet the dockworkers seemed familiar, as did the nonnas who fussed over him in the trattorias where he lingered over lunch and another bottle of wine. He always paid for his meal a hundred times over, knowing that the kind old women were compelled to pay protection money to the neighborhood soldiers of Cosa Nostra.

His distaste for that crime syndicate had nearly cost him the dream job at the casino. The first time he'd noticed the capos at his blackjack tables, he'd headed to the security office in a cold rage. "Get them out," he'd demanded. "I want them off my casino floor."

Louis, the head of security, had laughed at him. "They're spending money. They're _losing_ money. Lots of it."

"It's blood money," Daniel spat. "They're murderers. They ruin lives; they destroy families." He'd been surprised by his own vehemence. What, after all, were these men to him? "If we can keep track of the card counters and the _Monégasques,_ keep them out, why not these parasites?"

"Have you gone mad? This is a business; you are a businessman. You don't run a business by turning away your best customers. You can take it up with the Société des Bains de Mer, if you feel that strongly about it. But you know you'd be wasting your time."

Daniel realized his colleague was right. It was pointless. Most people here didn't even think of the mafiosos as criminals; they were one of Italy's biggest business enterprises in their own right. There was nothing he could do about them.

So instead he did what he could to help those on whose backs the mafia made the money that they gambled away so freely. His last stop on his brooding excursions was always one of the churches, the small, neglected ones hidden at the ends of ancient alleyways. He would slip inside just long enough to leave an enormous bankroll inside the poor box, then he would make his way back to the Annette, dodging the children chasing a football through the streets. "Scusa, signore," they called out, flashing dark eyes at him. The bambinos were a brief reminder of the domestic path not taken-or at least not recalled.

When he finally arrived back at the bungalow, the woman would be angry-annoyance at his disappearance before she'd awoken compounding her hurt at his reluctance to confide. Every woman was accustomed to getting what she wanted; that was part of the attraction for him. When what she wanted was Daniel, it also meant she wouldn't stand for the finite affection he had to give. Every relationship dissolved in more or less this same way, eventually, though some partings involved more raised voices than others.

After each breakup, he would throw himself back into his work. It was the most effective distraction, offering myriad amusements-such as the time Louis called him up to the security room to watch the arrival of one of the casino's music headliners and his entourage. On one of the many closed circuit video monitors, they could see pop star Eli Love, a faceless puppet from the vantage point of the camera mounted on the catwalk high above the stage. "The woman, there," said Louis, pointing to a slim brunette clad in tight black jeans and a black leather jacket, the very stereotype of rocker chic. "She's one of the girlfriends. His manager tells me she has a weakness for the roulette wheel. And when she joins him on tour, he allows her to head up his security detail." Louis shook his head incredulously and smirked. "She's your type, mon ami, no? She will come here to 'consult' with me. You'd like to meet her?"

Daniel peered at the anonymous figure on the screen. He did like the way she moved-she had an elegance about her, in spite of her uninspired fashion choices. But… "I generally prefer a lady with a bit more discretion," he grimaced as he watched the woman allow herself to be gracelessly groped by the musician in full view of a dozen stagehands.

"But you're in need of a woman again. I hear another one left in despair of ever hearing you say, 'Je t'aime.' And this one here, she chases money and the illusion of power. You have both of those," Louis laughed at him congenially.

"I think another woman is the last thing I need right now," Daniel countered amiably. "I'll content myself with the Annette for a while. And that's where I'll be. Enjoy your meeting with mademoiselle," he called over his shoulder as he made his exit.

Once on the boat, however, he couldn't shake the image of the unknown woman. There was something about her, so that she came unbidden to his mind. And still the fleeting dreams recurred, more often than in all the years before, in fact-and with them, the waking headaches and desolation.

He went on like this for months-long after the musician and his paramour had moved on to wherever it was such people went. He took to working long hours-much longer even than he needed to-in a futile attempt to exhaust himself enough for dreamless sleep.

And so it was that one night he trod the casino floor well after he could have left things in the capable hands of his staff. Despite his fatigue and the dull ache that had become almost a constant behind his bleary green eyes, he saw her from across the room: the mysterious woman from the security camera. Her back was to him, but no matter: Though he'd glimpsed her for just moments, and had never seen her face, his mind had replayed her figure and manner so frequently that he would have recognized her anywhere. Now there she stood by the baccarat table, wearing not the black ensemble but a blush-colored evening gown.

He was drawn to her like moth to flame, and as he approached, he had an intense sensation of déja vu. Standing by her elbow, he ventured, "Excuse me, mademoiselle…."

She turned, smiling. She was lovely…and he should know her, he thought-as the blunt pain behind his eyes exploded like a bomb, every synapse of his brain firing to try to _remember_…. "Have we met?" The simple question took the greatest of effort.

The woman saw before her a man with an odd, glazed look on his strikingly handsome face.

"I don't believe so…. Perhaps you know my husband, Dimitri Marick?" Alexandra Marick, assuming the man was drunk, tried to deftly deflect his advance. Looking more closely at him, she realized something was amiss. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry to have bothered you." Daniel was confused and nearly debilitated by the agony that had gripped his head. "Please excuse me." He turned to go, but stumbled back against Alex and the gaming table. He reached out toward the table to steady himself, to no avail, and slumped to the floor as everything went black.

He came to in the casino's medical office, with the on-site physician, Louis and several security guards, and the woman all looking down on him.

"Mr. Lund?" the woman said gently.

Tears sprang to his eyes, whether from her concern or from the throbbing that still racked his brain, he wasn't sure.

"Mr. Lund, do you know where you are?"

"The infirmary." He was ashen and thin-lipped, and loathe to show weakness in front of this beautiful stranger.

"Yes. Have you ever had a spell like this before? Your colleagues and Dr. Molineu think not. But perhaps you haven't told them?"

"No. Not like this." He couldn't remember ever having felt such pain, as if his head were in a vise. "My head…." 

"Mr. Lund, I'm a doctor. Dr. Marick. I think you should be taken to hospital. Your Dr. Molineu agrees with me."

He had not the strength nor the will to disagree.

At the hospital, he underwent dozens of tests, all revealing nothing. Stroke, heart problems, tumors were all ruled out. And yet still, he insisted, he felt pain that was nearly unbearable.

The lady doctor appeared at his bedside.

"You needn't have waited," he told her, grateful and yet hating feeling indebted to her. "Your husband must be missing you."

"He's used to it. Life married to a doctor, you know. He knows I can't abandon a patient," she said kindly. "You're feeling no better." It was a statement, not a question. She could see it in his eyes.

"No," he admitted grimly.

"I'm a neurologist. I do research, mostly. But I have a colleague, a brilliant young surgeon in America, whom I think you should see. His name is Dr. Patrick Drake. I think he may be able to help you."

Daniel Lund trusted Alexandra Marick. He knew not why, especially since the sight of her had wrought such hurt. But somehow he felt she offered answers-and truth.


	3. Part 3: The Way Back

The Way Back

At the Port Charles airport, Daniel made his way toward the boarding gate for the red-eye to Heathrow, where he'd pick up a connecting flight back to Monaco. The trip had been a waste of time. The young Dr. Drake had done his best but, like Dr. Molineau, he'd found no physical explanation for Daniel's excruciating headaches. Once again, MRIs and CT scans had revealed nothing.

"Short of exploratory surgery, there's nothing else I can do for you," Dr. Drake had told him. "And honestly, after consulting with our pathologist, I wouldn't recommend that. It's too risky for what might turn out to be a wild goose chase. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Doctor," Daniel replied grimly. Since arriving in Port Charles, he had not dared to hope for much more. The pain, against all odds, had grown worse still, and all he really wanted was to be away from this place.

"What I would recommend is that you talk to my colleague, Dr. Lainey Winters." Dr. Drake made the introductions. "She's the attending physician in our psychiatry department."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lund," Dr. Winters offered.

A psychiatrist, Daniel thought. He could not imagine trying to bear his soul to this woman, this stranger young enough to be his daughter. Not even his closest friends, not even Louis, knew of Daniel's full past-or, rather, lack of one. He had no desire to share his strange story of dreams he could not remember and a mystery woman he could neither recognize nor forget.

"Thank you, again, for all your help," he told the doctors. "I appreciate everything you've tried to do for me. But I'd prefer to go home now, to Monte Carlo. I'm sure I can find a very good therapist there." He offered a strained, apologetic smile.

"Of course," Dr. Winters agreed.

"You should also consult a pain-management specialist," Dr. Drake continued. "Our pathologist trained in Europe; I'm sure she could refer you to someone. I've asked her to join us when she's finished with her next patient."

"That's really not necessary."

Patrick had grown to know Daniel Lund well enough to expect that answer. He respected the man's self-sufficiency. "Well, if you're sure, I'll get your discharge papers drawn up. Good luck, Mr. Lund."

Dr. Scorpio scolded her husband when she arrived in his office. "You just let him go?"

"What did you want me to do, Robin?" Patrick responded. "The man's right: They have very good doctors in Europe. General Hospital can't cure the world. Especially not when we have to meet your mother for lunch."

The thought of her mom began to cheer Robin, and picking up her daughter at GH's Tania Jones Day Care Center finished the job. Soon the little family was seated around a table at Kelly's, the baby settled on her grandmother's lap, one fist in her mouth and the other grasping for Anna Devane's hair.

"So you have another assignment?" Robin asked, disappointed though not surprised.

"Yes, duty calls," Anna answered, without taking her eyes off her granddaughter. "Yes it does, doesn't it?" she cooed at Emma. She felt bad about leaving, and worse about doing so under false pretenses. But as hard as it was to be away from her daughter and granddaughter, spending any more time in Port Charles would be harder still. She'd already been there far too long. Long enough to be drawn back to the old haunts that still haunted her. More than once she'd found herself driving past the cream stucco French provincial house and parking across the street as if on stakeout. Another afternoon, having dropped Emma off at day care after a morning trip to the zoo, she'd wended her way out of town and through the countryside to the cottage. Even today she'd been late to this luncheon at Kelly's because she could not walk along the waterfront without being assailed by memories. She'd stood on the docks for nearly ten minutes, staring at the rear entrance to the building where, once upon a time, her husband had run his business. There were innumerable reminders of a brief time, many years ago, when she'd had everything she'd ever wanted. And so she'd called headquarters in London and told them she was coming back, begged them to find something-anything, anywhere-that would take her away from here and refocus her mind. And now she was prepared to enjoy this farewell lunch before heading off to the airport. Since any assignment would be at her request, she'd have to fly commercial-no chopper airlift this time.

Finding himself at the gate for his flight to London, Daniel set down his carry-on and ran his hand over his face, shielding his eyes and trying to wipe away the migraine. He'd arrived with no time to spare; the flight attendant was already announcing that passengers should line up for boarding. He bent to retrieve the bag, and looking down at it, he saw a classic Burberry scarf flutter to the floor. He stooped to pick it up, sensing its owner doing the same. Crouched on the floor, he looked up and found himself face to face with her. "Dr. Marick," he said, caught off guard.

His surprise was but a pale reflection of the shock on her face. Indeed, the poor woman looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Face drained of color, eyes blazing wide, and mouth agape, she stared at him in utter disbelief.

It couldn't be, thought Anna Devane. HE couldn't be. She must be dreaming. If so, she wanted never to wake. Or perhaps she'd finally, mercifully, lost her mind, once and for all. Or maybe, after she'd cheated it so many times, death had suddenly, unexpectedly caught up with her. She would welcome it so long as he was really there, with her-so long as this was real. She realized she was trembling.

Daniel was just about to address her again when she responded: "Duke." It was almost less than a word, barely more than a breath, but suddenly he knew he'd heard it before, in all those haunting, fleeting dreams. And they were not mere dreams, he now realized, but remembrances.

Instantaneously, the full force of memory slammed into Duke Lavery's mind with a physical impact, knocking out the pain that had become his constant companion. He reached for her, to steady himself, to keep from losing all balance. His hands, the right one still clutching the scarf, grasped her arms through her black trench coat, pulling her against him and wrenching another sigh from her: "Duke…."

So many times he had felt this before, her hot whisper against his ear as he buried his face in the soft, perfumed halo of her hair. So many times, and yet never enough. It was unthinkable that he had forgotten. Anna. She was his life, his heart, and in forgetting her, he'd lost his self.

Tears were spilling from her eyes now, and her breath was coming in gasps. He had to get her out of here, he realized. He rose, pulling her to her feet, gently draped the scarf across her shoulders, wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, and took her hand in his. "Come on," he told her, and led her out of the terminal.

Anna was trying to still the heaving of her sobs as they left the front desk of the airport hotel. It had taken just moments for Duke to check them in. This was not an establishment where the reservation clerk asked questions, not even when faced with the highly suspicious combination of an aggressively impatient man and a nearly hysterical woman.

By the time he closed the hotel room door behind them [cue "Velocity of Love"], she had just about succeeded at collecting herself. The shock of hope was giving way to growing doubt. How could this be, when she'd buried him not once but twice? How could this be, when he'd called her by the name of her long-lost sister, a twin whose existence they'd never even suspected.

But then he was looking at her, those clear green eyes boring into hers, seeming to see right through to her very soul. "Anna," he said to her, speaking her name the way he always had, a way no one else did: as if it were a prayer. "My Anna." He reached out to touch her face, the same lovely face despite all the years that had passed.

And with that she dissolved into tears again, as he drew her toward him. She was pressed against him, her damp face against his shoulder, and she was in his arms.

"Shhh," he hushed her. "It's alright. I'm here." And again she could no longer control her weeping, and she didn't need to try, because they were holding each other and nothing else mattered.

Neither of them was really sure how long they stayed like that, locked in each other's embrace, rocking to the beating of their hearts. But finally Anna was cried out; she leant back in his arms to look up at his face. Then she laid her hand aside of his cheek. "How?" she asked, looking at him in wonderment.

Duke found he could suddenly recall the beginning of the end, that awful, awful night. "That night when we were supposed to enter the witness protection program, there was a bunker beneath the warehouse. When the place exploded, the federal marshals dragged me into it. They convinced me that you and Robin would be safer if I just disappeared."

"I tried to get to you." Her voice expressed the desperation as vividly as if it had all happened just the day before. "Robert wouldn't let me."

"Thank god for that." The place had been an inferno, he remembered.

"I found your ring."

"I know. I left it, so you would believe I was gone. I didn't want there to be any doubt. I thought it was the only way to protect you and Robin from the Jeromes."

"It worked," Anna scoffed. "Victor believed you were dead also. He considered the vendetta fulfilled. But, oh, Duke, it wasn't worth it. There were moments I wished he'd send a hit man-"

"Don't say that," Duke interrupted her, stroking tears away from her cheekbone. "Don't. You're safe; you're here. We're both here now. And that evil old man, well, he's long dead."

"Yes," Anna averred, remembering that Victor's death hadn't followed Duke's nearly as closely as she'd wished.

"And Olivia?" Duke asked.

"She's dead too." Anna's voice was cold, flat, and as she spoke the words, her heart sank. Duke, her Duke, was here, in the flesh. Which meant he had NOT been with her 6 months after the warehouse. The man whom Olivia, with her dying words, had claimed was Duke, who'd shot and killed Julian Jerome and who'd been shot and killed by Julian Jerome, who'd died in her arms-the man whose ashes she'd scattered on a misty day in Scotland-that had not been her beloved. Guilt seeped into her veins like ice water. How could she have thought...?

"Duke…" she began. She had no idea how to proceed. "A man…came to me…. He knew so much. About Olivia, about Julian." She was growing increasingly agitated, trying to extricate herself from his arms, unable to look him in the face. "He killed Julian. He knew all about the Jeromes. All about us. Things only you and I knew…."

"Paget," Duke said, stroking her back to calm her as her tension transferred itself to his own body. It was odd, he thought, that after knowing nothing for so long, he felt memories falling into place like puzzle pieces. She was the cornerstone, he realized. He flashed back to a strange room in which he lay in a sort of paralysis, prey to a man so slight in so many respects that he was almost a malevolent ghost: thin frame, thin hair, thin voice. Faison, he remembered, and seethed with hatred. Faison called out a summons: "Desirée." A woman entered with a syringe and came toward Duke to inject him with it. Duke couldn't seem to think or move to stop her. As the needle broke his skin, he heard Faison speaking to the other man, the one with shifty eyes. "Listen well," Faison said to the man, "and you'll earn your million dollars-and the considerable charms of Anna Devane. Mr. Lavery is about to give us all the reconnaissance you'll need for this assignment, Paget."

"Yes." Anna was stunned. "Jonathan Paget." She was relieved but utterly confused. He knew. "How could you know that?"

"Do you know a man named Faison? Cesar Faison?"

"What has he to do with this?" Anna asked bitterly.

"When Victor died, I tried to get back to you-"

"I saw you!" Anna interrupted him. "After Victor's funeral, I saw you at the airport. Oh, god, I felt like I was losing my mind. But I SAW you. You looked right at me. I KNEW it."

"Yes."

"Oh, Duke, why didn't you come to me then?"

"I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. It was all I could do to keep from crossing the room and taking you in my arms. But it wasn't safe. Julian was still out there, and many other members of the family who were still loyal to Victor. I couldn't take the chance. I couldn't put you in danger again. I meant to change my appearance and come to you with a new identity…"

"That's what Paget said…"

Anna's head was reeling. Duke could see it. Just a few hours earlier, as Daniel Lund, he'd thought that the pain that had brought him to Port Charles was the greatest anguish he could ever feel. This was worse. To cause her suffering was infinitely worse.

"Faison sent him," he told her. "Faison held me against my will. He said he'd been watching you. That he wanted you, and that he would use me to get to you. He said he loved you." Duke saw Anna recoil as he spoke. He watched myriad ugly emotions darken her beautiful face. Disgust. Fear. Hatred. "He didn't. It wasn't love," Duke continued. Trailing the back of his fingers along the curve of her face and watching her features soften again, he whispered, "This is love." He was awed by a depth of emotion he hadn't felt in so very long. Anna slipped her hand into his, brought his fingers to her lips, and kissed them. They were both momentarily silenced by the intensity of that small gesture.

But Duke continued, driven to explain to her, to explain to himself, how it was possible that he had gone 20 years with no conscious knowledge of this love that had once been the defining force of his life. "Faison had, I don't know, mind-control drugs. They made me…they made me tell him about you, about us, about our life together. That man, that Paget, he was there, listening. Faison meant to send him to take my place. I didn't want to tell them, Anna. I didn't want to. I couldn't…I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

It was Anna's turn to comfort him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him. "It's alright. I know Faison. I do. He's evil. He's worse than the Jeromes, than the mob. Worse than Sonny Corinthos, and the Zaccharas, and all the rest of the scum who've ruined everything that we sacrificed for. Faison is worse than any of them. He…plays tricks with people's minds, with their emotions."

"He said that you would believe Paget was me," Duke told her. "He planned for Paget to take you into his confidence, to win you over. And then he planned to kill Paget, and win you for himself. And Anna, the drugs, whatever he gave me…they wiped out my memory. I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember you. I couldn't. Or I would've come to you. I would've come, and I would've stopped them. I swear to you."

"Oh, Duke. Faison's plan, it didn't work. Well, not the way he meant it to. Paget…I did think…I did believe that he was you. Not right away. But the things he told me, the things you'd told him…they were secrets. Our secrets. And I missed you. I missed you so much. I wanted so desperately to have you back. I wanted to believe you'd come back to me. So I believed Paget. Forgive me, I did. But nothing came of it. Julian killed him. Almost as soon as Paget came to Port Charles, Julian killed him. Faison didn't get the chance to. His plan didn't work. Nothing happened between Paget and I. And then Paget was dead. And I don't know what Faison did. He abandoned that plan, I suppose. Because he left me alone. He left me alone until…"

Anna stopped. She could not tell Duke the circumstances under which she next saw Cesar Faison. Not now. It didn't matter. It had nothing to do with them.

"I hate him" was all she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Oh, Duke, I hate him. He kept you from me…. God, he's taken everything!" Robbing her of Duke was the worst of it; Anna felt no need to tell Duke the rest. "I'm going to find him. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him."

Duke wasn't going to discourage her. What Faison had done to him was far less, in a way. He hadn't realized what he'd lost. But Anna had, and he could see the pain it had caused her. He understood it, because now that he'd found her again, he knew how it would hurt to lose her. He would not be able to bear it. She'd survived because, he thought, she was stronger than he was. Every moment that he was with her now, he was more convinced of that. Every passing moment, he loved her more.

"Don't think about him now, love," he said to her, stroking her hair away from her face. "Not now. Don't let him steal any more time from us." He wanted to soothe her pain. He wanted to be the sole focus of that passion and strength he saw in her face. He wanted to fully explore this connection between them, this bond so strong that her voice speaking his name could heal his pain, could overwhelm the man he'd been for the past 20 years, and could instantly rekindle a long-extinguished flame.

She looked at him and could read all of this in his face. His face that she'd so often dreamt about, that she'd long since stopped hoping to ever see again. Its lines were deeper-thank god, he'd laughed a lot, she thought, whatever he'd done. And he was tanned, she noticed, to a degree she'd never seen in four upstate New York summers. And lean, as he'd always been. Suddenly, despite all the weighty questions still unanswered, all she could think about was where on that trim form she might find tan lines. She smiled at the thought, and felt the heat rising in her face, and down her chest, and lower….

"Now this," she murmured to him, and lifted her face up to his, and kissed him gently. She drew back, and their eyes searched each other. They found no hesitation, no uncertainty. Only love and desire, laid bare. It drove them into each others' arms again, their bodies melding together as if two halves of a whole, their kiss impassioned by a hunger long denied. They made their way to the bed and gave themselves over to the joy of rediscovery.

Hours later, waking to find herself nestled against Duke's shoulder nearly brought Anna to tears again. She blinked them away, refusing to let anything cloud the sight of him as he slept. The salt and pepper of his hair suited him, she thought; it seemed the very embodiment of the gravitas he'd always had. But oh, how she wished he'd been with her for every moment of the years that had wrought the change.

She snuggled more closely against him and hugged him tightly to her. Without waking, he shifted in her arms, turning toward her. She let her hands leisurely retrace the paths they'd taken in recent, more heated moments. She wanted to commit every millimeter to memory, in case…. She knew better than to take a single second for granted. And so her fingertips found the scar-so smooth now, after so many years, as to be barely detectable to all but the most familiar touch-at the base of his spine, where Bert Ramsey's bullet had nearly taken his legs, had nearly taken his life. Her caresses at that spot had once been a shorthand between them, the nuance of her touch informing the motion of his hips against hers. She briefly wondered if Paget would've tried to fake even this detail, or if its absence would have been the clue that revealed him as an imposter. Thank god things had never gotten that far.

Eyes still closed, Duke murmured into her hair: "What are you thinking about?"

Anna pushed aside her guilt in favor of the greater truth that prompted it. "I love you," she responded, the three small words overflowing with emotion.

He opened his eyes and drew back to look at her. "I love you, Anna Devane."

The words were like music to her, and yet they reminded her: "Duke…. At the airport. You called me… 'Dr. Marick….'"

He studied her face, stroking her hair back from her forehead. "You have a doppelganger. I met her at my home, in Monaco. It was she that sent me here, to Port Charles. Seems like…fate. It's quite amazing, really: She could be your twin."

"Um…she is, actually."

"You told me your sister died when you were a child."

"That was Lindsey. Dr. Marick, well… Oh, it's such a long story, Duke. So much has happened…."

"I want to hear everything you have to say. Bit by bit, piece by piece. However long it takes. We've got time. I'm not going anywhere…." He kissed her, a long, luxuriant, indulgent kiss, after which she needed a moment to collect her thoughts again.

Eventually, she was able to proceed. "Alexandra Marick IS my twin. I only learned of her a few years ago. Our parents were told she'd died at birth, but she hadn't died-she'd been kidnapped. I can't believe you know her."

"Meeting her is what brought me back to you. Alex came to the casino. I've been helping to run the Monte Carlo." Anna looked at him in astonishment. "A bit of a step up from our club in Port Charles, I know," he smiled, with more than a little of the swagger that had come so easily when they'd first met. "The first time I saw her, it was from afar. She was dallying with a rock musician who was performing at the casino," he smirked. "I didn't see her face, but she seemed familiar somehow."

Oh my god, Anna thought, that wasn't Alex he'd seen. Her agency training allowed her to keep her face a mask, the nervous darting of her eyes the only possible giveaway as she remembered that rendezvous with Eli Love. So this was how it would be this time, she thought ironically. The secrets, the lies of omission, were to be hers. She would be a hypocrite, but so be it. She could not risk his turning that look of condescension on her. It would break both their hearts.

Duke was continuing his tale, oblivious to her fear that his unconditional love might in fact have one condition. "And then when I finally met Alex…well, I guess you could say it blew my mind, literally. Whatever Faison had done to wipe out my memory, it was no match for coming face to face with a woman who looked like you. I had…some kind of attack. As if all the memories of you were fighting to get out of my head, I suppose. Alex, being a doctor, she tried to help me. I didn't fully realize she was the cause of everything. She recommended I come here, to General Hospital, for a consultation with Dr. Patrick Drake."

"Our son-in-law…." Anna was again fully wrapped up in his story, barely able to believe the layers of wild coincidence.

"Our what?"

"Son-in-law. Patrick is Robin's husband."

"Our little Robin is married?" It was Duke's turn to be incredulous.

"She's a wife, and a mother." Anna's eyes shone with pride. "She's got the most beautiful little girl, called Emma."

"So, you're a grandmother." Raising an eyebrow, Duke made the observation slowly, deliberately, somehow managing to make the last word sound dirty rather than dowdy.

"Ugh, don't remind me." Anna was not fully aware of his lascivious tone.

"And why not?" Duke asked. "If little Emma is one-third the beauty that her granny is, she's a lovely lass indeed." As he spoke, his hands outlined the curves of her body in a manner most convincing.

Anna cast her eyes down modestly, but she could not suppress the grin that spread over her face. "Yes. Well. You must meet her. Emma, that is. And Robin-oh, Robin will be SO glad to see you. So happy you're alive." Her voice broke with the last word. "She's a doctor, too. At General Hospital. She takes after her aunt Alex, in that. And Alex! I must call Alex, and thank her. Thank her for sending you back to me. She won't believe it. It's too incredible. She's saved us both, now." Anna remembered her sister helping her recover from her own amnesia, helping her come back to herself and come back to Robin after 15 years lost due to… Faison. She would make Cesar Faison pay, she swore to herself.

But it was difficult to get caught up in fantasies of vengeance with Duke there, so very much alive, and so very intent on nuzzling her ear. "I want to see all of them," he assured her. "Eventually. But right now, all I want to see is…more of you." And with a flourish, he pulled the sheet up over both their heads.


	4. Part 4: Rebuilding

Rebuilding

Drowsing in bed later, in the airport-hotel room, Duke observed, "These aren't the most luxurious accommodations."

"That's alright. This room sort of reminds me of the one in New York. The last time we were together, like this. Do you remember?" Anna asked, tenderly.

"I do, now," he quietly told her, kissing her forehead. He could see how dear the memory was to her-and how very bittersweet. To lighten the mood, he joked, "This place isn't THAT bad, is it?"

Anna laughed. "No, I suppose not. You do have a point, though-we could do better."

"I've spent too much time in hospital beds recently," Duke grimaced. "I'm ready for something more comfortable. And you certainly deserve it. So what passes for the high life in Port Charles, these days?"

"Um, I guess that would be the…MetroCourt? But let's not go there," Anna said immediately, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Why not? If it's the best? I want to give you only the best. Of everything." He kissed her.

"Yes, well, it's got bad vibes," she answered, absent-mindedly interlocking her fingers with his. "One of the owners-Carly Something-or-Other, I'm not really sure-has mob ties, for one. Her ex-husband is Sonny Corinthos, who's up to his neck in every ugly thing that happens in this town. Robin can't stand the woman, and she's always been a good judge of character, you know that. Oh, and Robin was injured there, in a hostage crisis. She's fine now! She's totally recovered," Anna quickly reassured Duke, seeing the look of alarm on his face.

As good as these objections were, they were simply a cover for Anna's true motivation: She suspected that the hotel staff still remembered a certain cougar-vs.-sex kitten fight over a certain rock star. Even a year later, at her daughter's wedding reception, the bartender had winked at her and mimed a karate chop….

"Well, where, then? You choose," Duke prompted.

"The Port Charles Hotel? It's considered sort of old-fashioned now, I suppose, but, well, we had our wedding reception there, didn't we."

"That's a good enough reason for me. Anyway, it's got to be better than this place."

They shared a laugh.

"It's settled, then," Anna agreed. "Before we go, though, I have to make a phone call..."

"You mean I'm no longer the object of your undivided attention?"

"That's exactly why I need to make the call. I'm expected at work, you see, so I have to give notice that I'll be unavailable for…a while," she said meaningfully.

That earned her yet another kiss. "Mmm. And exactly how does Miss Devane occupy herself these days, when she's not…unavailable?"

"I suppose you'd call it…special ops?"

"The WSB?" Duke asked, concerned.

"Not in so many words. The agency doesn't really use that name; it's sort of fallen out of favor. Now that the Cold War's been over…. And most of the players have changed…. But…" Anna struggled to clarify exactly what it was that she did.

"That's dangerous, Anna," Duke pointed out, knitting his brow. She was capable, he knew, but that didn't ameliorate his concern. His own life had for years been one of luxury and ease. The thought of this beautiful creature deliberately putting herself in harm's way seemed perverse.

"It can be," Anna admitted. "That's part of the job. And the job is all I have."

Duke was further disturbed by this fatalistic attitude. This was not the Anna he'd known so well and loved so much. "What about Robin? And our little granddaughter?" He puzzled that this wasn't blatantly obvious to her.

"They have their own lives, Duke. Their whole lives ahead of them. Robin knows better than to depend on her old mum. She understands. And Emma, well, she's so little. She barely remembers me when I'm not around. It's not as if she'd miss me." Anna had repeated these justifications to herself many times.

"Well now there's me. I remember you. Finally, I remember you. And I would miss you. I won't risk losing you again, Anna."

"No. Never again," Anna affirmed fiercely. For the first time, she considered that perhaps it was time to retire from the agency. Perhaps when she called she would tender her resignation. It merited further thought-later. For now, she wanted to think only about another attempt at making up for lost time with this man. She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her fingertips through the close-cropped silver of his hair, and kissed him fervently, sinking back amongst the pillows and pulling him down on top of her….

Another bed, another bedroom, in a suite at the Port Charles Hotel

Anna sighed contentedly. "You know, I think that was almost worth waiting more than 20 years for."

"Shall I go away again, then?" Duke teased.

"No! Don't you dare. Not even for 20 minutes."

"I'll need at least that long before we can try that again anyway…."

Anna laughed. "Well, in the meantime, tell me about your work. I want to hear about exotic Monte Carlo."

Duke exhaled deeply. "There's not much to tell, really. Running the casino is much like running the old club, though on a much…grander scale, of course. The principality is beautiful, though. The soaring cliffs, the soft-sand beaches, the sea sparkling like a sapphire..."

"So it's just like Scotland, then," Anna teased. "But warmer."

"Very funny…. I want to take you there."

"To Scotland?" Anna asked hopefully, remembering the week of pleasure that was their honeymoon.

"Yes, there. And to Monte Carlo. We'll make a holiday of it. I'll show you the casino, introduce you to my friends."

"There's a casino here in Port Charles, you know."

"Really?" Duke asked doubtfully.

"Mmm, yes. A floating one, on that old yacht that's been moored on the docks forever. We should go. It'd be fun, don't you think?"

"Hmm, not as much fun as staying here, but okay, if you like, we should go."

"Tonight. Let's go tonight. Oh, it'll be wonderful. An evening out, like we used to have."

Duke smiled at her girlish excitement.

"I'm going to have a shower," Anna said, beginning to slip out from between the sheets.

"Don't take too long," Duke called after her as she crossed the room.

She stopped at the entrance to the bathroom and turned to look back at him. "I have to wash my hair. That should take, oh, 20 minutes.…" She peeked at him sidelong from under lowered lashes before disappearing through the doorway.

Duke chuckled to himself. Then, hearing the flow of water start, he rose from the bed and followed after her.

As he entered the bathroom, steam was already beginning to fill the room, clouding it in a dreamlike mist. Anna stood beneath the streaming water, already shampooing her hair. Duke watched her graceful silhouette through the frosted glass of the shower door. Swinging the door open, he lingered, admiring her lithe body. Her back to him, Anna smiled without looking at him. "You're early," she chided.

"I think I'm just in time," he corrected her, stepping into the shower to stand behind her. He sank his hands into her thickly lathered hair and began to massage her scalp.

"Mmm. That feels wonderful," Anna said appreciatively.

He chuckled. "Just you wait…" he promised.

"I'd rather not," she responded, and relaxed back against his body.

She rested her head against his shoulder and tilted her face toward the falling water, letting the scented suds rinse over both of their bodies. Their hands, slick with soap, began to explore, leisurely, thoroughly, absent the impatient passion of their previous interludes. Under the thrum of the water and Duke's skilled touch, Anna soon felt a scudding wave of pleasure rush over her. She reeled against him, with a cry that reverberated off the tile walls.

Pulling aside her sodden hair, Duke kissed the side of her outstretched neck. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," he murmured, sucking beads of water from her skin.

"Oh, I hope not," Anna responded breathlessly. "I know I shan't."

"Come closer," he said, knowing full well that all that was between them was liquid and what little oxygen was left in the room. And then there was not even that, as he held firmly to her waist and she braced herself against the shower wall, palms flat and fingers splayed.

"Yes…" Anna gasped, and the word was echoed again and again in the tight, humid space until it was drowned out, many long, voluptuous minutes later, by Duke's inarticulate growl.

Slipping into a fluffy white velour hotel robe relatively soon afterward, Anna inquired, "You're sure you don't mind going out this evening?"

"No, not at all."

"You wouldn't rather just stay in and rest?"

"Good lord, woman, I think if I'm to get any rest at all, I need to get you out of this hotel room."

"Oh, you poor thing," Anna laughed. "How about food? Shall we get you some of that as well?"

"Food would be good," Duke affirmed.

"Yes, we need to keep your energy up. Besides which, I'm starving."

"I knew you had an ulterior motive," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Oh, go get dressed. Go on. Before I change my mind."

"Yes, ma'am." And he dutifully headed for the closet.

The Haunted Star

Coming out of his office, Luke Spencer was jazzed to see Anna Devane in his place. She looked different, he thought. She'd ditched the black leather jacket and jeans for a striking red dress. It was an improvement. As was her mood. She looked happy, he noted. Really happy. He couldn't wait to find out what had brought that on. "Devane! Taking a break from saving the free world? You up for a little roulette, sister?"

Seeing Duke coming up behind Luke, on his way back from the bar, Anna's eyes flashed at Spencer with a look that should have been lethal, as she gave an emphatic little shake of her head.

"No?" Luke asked.

Duke was now at Anna's side, saying, "Here you are," handing her a glass of champagne, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I was wondering where you'd run off to."

"I was just catching up with an old acquaintance, darling," Anna explained. "Mr. Spencer is a good friend of Robert's. He runs this establishment. Umm…Luke, Duke Lavery. Duke, Luke."

The three of them exchanged droll looks at the rhyming introduction.

Putting his left arm around Anna's waist, Duke extended his right hand toward Spencer, and the two men shook as Duke nodded and said, "Nice to meet you. The Haunted Star-it certainly has ambience."

"Well, thank you," Luke responded, noting the change that had come over Anna's face when Lavery touched her. He recognized that look; he used to want nothing more than to see it on the face of his angel. Laura. He instantly understood what was between these two.

Over at the bar, the bartender was texting about his most recent customer, who had left a great tip. "YR MUM HS W/ BOYFR l%ks seriS ;-) TTYL"

"So this is your old man, huh," Luke winked at Anna. "Robin has told me about you," he informed Duke. "I'm glad to see the rumors of your death have been greatly exaggerated. But you've got your hands full with Devane here, let me tell you."

"I know, and I wouldn't have it any other way," Duke smiled at Anna.

"So what's your poison?" Luke inquired. "I don't suppose Jose Cuervo is still a friend of yours?" He looked conspiratorially at Anna. "No? Well, whatever-next one's on the house."

"That's not necessary," Duke deferred.

"I know it's not, but this is my place, and I like unnecessary. Life's too short to be wasted on necessities," Luke insisted.

"Thank you," Duke conceded.

"You're a most gracious host, as ever," Anna added.

"What can I say? I try. Lemme know if there's anything else I can do you for."

"Well, actually…" Anna said. She stepped close to Luke and whispered in his ear.

"Ah-ha," Spencer said approvingly. "Good taste, you two. I'd be honored. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go take care of that, and you folks enjoy your evening."

"What was all that about?" Duke asked Anna as Luke walked off.

"You'll see," Anna promised, turning to face him, slipping her arms around his waist, and giving him a dazzling smile.

As Duke smiled back at her, the opening strains of "In a Sentimental Mood" floated through the air. Anna bounced up on her toes, her eyes twinkling at him, and she ran her hands up his back and clasped them behind his neck.

For a long moment, Duke looked at her, intrigued and expectant, but without recognition, oblivious to the music playing especially for them. Anna tensed with disappointment. "It's our song. From the night we first met," she prompted. And in a rare anomaly for all their many dances together, she took the lead, taking his hand in hers and placing her other formally upon his shoulder. As she started to guide them, Duke's muscle memory kicked in, his body retaining what his mind had not. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and she laid her head on his shoulder. That, finally, was enough: The tune now rang familiar, and it was as if not a single night-let alone thousands- had passed since last they'd danced together. Without a word, the two of them were swaying together as if they were the only two people in the room-and in the world.

With their guard down, neither noticed that they were being watched. At the bar to which Luke had retreated, Sonny Corinthos studied the handsome couple. "That guy with Robin's mother. Who is he?" he asked Spencer.

"That's Anna's long-lost husband. Duke Lavery."

"Lavery…. Lavery…." Sonny repeated, thinking. "Why do I know that name?"

"I think he used to be in on your game," Luke suggested.

"That's right!" Sonny said, recalling long-ago headlines of the Port Charles Herald. "Back in the late '80s. After you sent Frank Smith to prison and then left town, Lavery's gang ran the show. That organization even had a guy on the inside-Ramsey, the other chief of police was in on it. Perfect setup. Until…until…until Lavery turned on them, for HER," he shook his head toward Anna, "and brought the whole thing down. He did the same thing to the Jeromes, too, and they were one of the biggest outfits in the country." Sonny shook his head. "I thought Old Man Jerome took him out."

"Apparently not," Luke observed.

"So what's he doing here?"

"Dancing with his lady, looks like. They make a good-lookin' couple, you gotta admit."

"No, what's he DOING HERE? You let a guy like that come in here?"

"Neutral ground, my friend, neutral ground."

"Yeah, well, I'll be keeping an eye on him. If he comes anywhere NEAR my business, he'll be sorry. He'll be really sorry. I can promise you that." He flipped open his cell phone. "Jason. I got something I need you to work on. Yeah, meet me at my office; I'll tell you there."

The Laverys, meanwhile, were still cheek-to-cheek, oblivious to everything but the music and each other. As the song's bridge began, Duke ventured a question. "So, when can I see Robin? And her daughter? I'm anxious to meet our grandbabby, you know."

"It's going to be a shock to her, your being alive," Anna began carefully.

"A happy surprise, I hope."

"Oh, yes, darling, of course. But Robin's been through so much. There's something…something you need to know. Before you see her."

"You said she'd completely recovered from being held hostage."

"She has, she has. Long ago. I only wish that were the worst of it."

"There's something worse than that? You're beginning to scare me, Anna." Duke had stopped their dance.

"Come sit with me," Anna told him.

She led him to an empty poker table in a darkened corner of the casino and took both his hands in hers as they sat facing each other. "Duke, Robin is HIV positive," she told him gently.

"What?"

"She's very healthy, despite her status. She was diagnosed almost as soon as she contracted the virus, and she's been on a strict drug regimen for years now. She's had the very best care available."

"My god, Anna." Duke was shaken to his core. When he thought of Robin, he still saw the little girl he'd adored.

"Robin's healthy. She is. And she's so brave, and strong. She's become an absolutely amazing woman."

"And her daughter?"

"Emma is fine. She doesn't have the virus. She's a normal, healthy little girl. But it will be very emotional, for Robin, to have you back. Do you see?"

"So, how do you want to tell her? I want to see her, Anna. Now that you've told me this, I need to see her, all the more."

"I know. Soon. I promise. We'll speak to her first thing tomorrow; it's her day off from the hospital."

"Thank you." Duke was still shattered. A part of him-a rather large part-felt responsible for everything that had befallen Robin and Anna in his absence. He couldn't help but think that so very many things could have been different….

"I'm sorry, to have told you this way. It was stupid of me to have waited. It's so difficult. I still can't accept it myself sometimes." Anna was keeping herself very carefully in check. "My little girl…." Finally her voice broke with helplessness and hopelessness.

Anna's pain superseded Duke's own. He rose from his seat, quietly telling her, "Let's go home."

Home. They had no place to go but an anonymous hotel room, but each of them felt that, because they were together, it was home. The first true home either of them had had in a very long time.

Sitting room of DNA's suite at the Port Charles Hotel, the next morning

Her cell phone at her ear, Anna listened to Robin's phone ring. And ring. And ring. Duke stalked anxiously around the sofa.

In her kitchen, Robin grabbed her Blackberry in a panic. She'd managed to disconnect the night before-thanks to connecting with Patrick, instead-and hadn't checked messages. After checking caller ID, she answered: "Mom? I'm here, Mom. How are you? WHERE are you? Is everything okay?" She shouted to be heard over a howling Emma, who was complaining about being confined to her high chair.

Anna pulled the phone away from her ear, grimacing at the noise coming through the receiver, which was loud enough even for Duke to hear it. "I'm fine, darling. Everything's wonderful. Are YOU okay?"

"Just giving Emma her breakfast. Well, trying to, anyway. So where did you say you are? Emma, shush! Mommy can't hear."

"I'm here, in Port Charles. My assignment was…cancelled. Um, do you want to call me back later?"

Duke shook his head-[I]_No[/I]_-at Anna. He wasn't sure he had the patience to wait any longer. Anna silently shrugged at him, turning her palms up in a helpless gesture.

"No, later wouldn't be any better. What's up?" She grabbed a box of Cheerios and flung a big handful onto the high chair tray. Emma snatched them with her little fists, shoved them in her mouth, and was pacified.

"I need to come see you today," Anna told her.

"Today? I've got a million things to do. Laundry. And grocery shopping-we have no food in the house. Can I take a rain check?"

"I know you're busy, darling, but it's very important. There's someone with me who wants to see you." Anna reached out and clasped Duke's hand, looking at him in solidarity.

"Well, why all the secrecy, Mother?" Robin asked impatiently. "Can't you just tell me?" Please tell me she's not back with Eli, Robin thought. Or worse, my father-in-law. She shuddered at the thought. Or it could be Aunt Alex, or Daddy, Robin's brain calculated quickly, always looking for the right answer, the logical answer, as quickly as possible.

"Before I tell you: Are you sitting down? Are you holding Emma? Put her down, and please sit down."

Oh, no, this could not be good, Robin thought. Every time she had to deliver bad news to a patient, this was how the conversation began. "Mom, please just tell me," she pleaded. But she sat. She sat, and she stared at Emma. Looking at her precious little girl could get her through anything.

"You're sitting?" Anna asked again.

"Yes, yes, I'm sitting. Emma's in her high chair. What is it, Mom? Who's there?"

"You'll never believe it. Your stepfather is here."

Robin was utterly confused, unable to fathom what her mother was talking about. Surely Anna wasn't referring to David Hayward. She'd never once thought of him as a step-anything, and while his presence would definitely be a surprise, it wasn't one worth sitting down for.

Robin's silence was making Anna very nervous. "Robin?" she ventured.

Duke's patience was at an end. He took the phone from Anna's hand and raised it to his ear, as Anna watched him, holding her breath. "Robin? Are you okay, sweetheart?" Duke asked worriedly.

Recognition flashed in Robin's eyes. That voice. Oh, she knew that voice. When she'd been a child, it could slay dragons, banish bogeymen, and most important, reassure her that, come what may, she would be loved. "Uncle Duke?" she said quietly, cautiously, barely daring to hope.

"Yes, luv."

"Oh my god. Uncle Duke. Mom? Where are you guys?" Robin was smiling, but tears were rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away and sniffed. Emma, having eaten all her cereal and having noticed her mother's welling emotions, began to cry again. "It's alright, Emma," Robin reassured her, stroking her hair. "Mommy's alright. Everything's gonna be okay. Duke's back."

Scorpio-Drake house

Robin paced around her living room, bending to pick up toys off the floor and stow them in baskets on the shelving unit, straightening magazines on the coffee table, then smoothing her clothes and hair. It was ridiculous to be this nervous, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.

When the doorbell finally rang, she startled, took just a moment to collect herself, and then marched purposefully to answer it.

She opened the door to the first man who had taught her what true love meant, the man who had given up everything for her and her mother. He stood there with a shy half-smile, holding a white plush terrier, with Anna at his elbow. Without a word, Robin threw her arms around his neck. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her feet right up off the floor, squeezing her tight before setting her back down. He held her at arm's length. "Let me look at you. Just let me look at you. Why, you're more beautiful than I'd even imagined."

"Stop, Uncle Duke," Robin blushed and wiped tears from her cheeks.

Anna beamed from the doorway, her eyes welling.

"This is for Emma," Duke said, proffering the stuffed dog.

"Oh, that's so funny," Robin smiled. "Wait a minute…." She went back to the shelf and retrieved one of the toys she'd just put away: a black toy Scottie dog. "Remember this? It's Duncan. Can you believe I kept him? Emma loves it."

"Well, they match the décor, anyway," Duke laughed, looking around the tastefully appointed living room with its bold patterns in black and white.

"Yeah," Robin laughed. "And at least you didn't bring bagpipes." She shook her head in disbelief that Duke was there, in her living room, having this normal-if nostalgic-conversation. She flung herself at him again and gushed, "Oh, I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweetheart." Duke's voice was husky and he pressed his lips tightly together, trying to contain his emotions as his green eyes glistened.

"So where's my little granddaughter?" Anna asked, stepping over the threshold and wiping tears from her own face as Duke and Robin slowly let go of each other. "Hi, by the way," she added, laughing.

Duke and Robin both laughed too. "Hi," Robin answered, hugging her mother. "She's in her room, napping, finally. But she should be getting up soon."

A wail went up from the baby monitor on the coffee table. "Mama!"

"She has impeccable timing," Duke observed.

"I'll go get her," Anna offered. "You two stay here and get reacquainted."

"Thanks," Robin said as Anna headed off to the nursery. Robin took Duke's hand and led him to sit on the sofa. "I don't even know where to begin…" she said to him. "We thought you were dead. That night, at the warehouse…."

In the car on the ride over, Anna had warned Duke that Robin knew nothing about Paget. Robin had met him, yes, but Anna had made sure she'd never learned the rest. Duke had been deeply relieved that Robin had been spared that confusion. He had put her through so much as it was.

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "I thought it was the only way to keep you and your mother safe. I thought I'd better go away on my own. I couldn't see any other way."

"I understand," Robin told him. "I know how dangerous the mob is. Now, more than ever, I get that. And now, well, I know what it means to have a child, and to want to protect that child, no matter what."

Duke gave her a sad and grateful smile and reached out to stroke her cheek. It did not surprise him that his precocious little lady had grown into such a compassionate, confident woman-he'd have expected nothing less. Their eyes met, and then Robin looked past him: "And speaking of 'that child,'…here she is."

"Hullo," Anna cooed, entering the room with Emma. "Say, 'Hi.'"

Duke turned and saw Anna walking toward him with a dark-haired tot on her hip. The child was adorable, but the woman…. To Duke's eyes, she was suffused with a unique tenderness. Here was another aspect to Anna Devane, he thought-another reason to fall ever more deeply in love with her.

Anna, focused on the little girl, was unaware of the adoration with which Duke looked at her as she settled the child on his lap. As Anna stepped away, he managed to shift his attention to Emma. "Hi there, sweetheart," he said to Emma, dandling her on his knee as naturally as if he'd done so every day of her little life. "I'm your granda Duke."

Anna and Robin shared a smile, their eyes watery mirrors of each other as they welled up with tears again. Anna sat down on the sofa next to Duke, with Robin on his other side. Anna wrapped her arm around Duke's shoulders, and Robin placed her hand atop Anna's.

"Your mummy and I have always been great friends," Duke told Emma, "and I'd like for you and I to be the best of friends too. Is that alright with you, luv?" He kissed the top of the little girl's head.

Robin was grinning from ear to ear, but the moment was suddenly too much for Anna, who bit her lip and hurriedly said, "Tea. I need some tea…. I'm going to make some." She sprang up from the sofa and rushed out of the room, toward the kitchen.

"Anna?" Duke said, confused, trying to turn to look after her.

"Um, I'll go help her," Robin said to him, concerned. "Can you, um…can you stay with Emma?"

"Of course." He looked again toward the doorway through which Anna had exited, but then turned back to Emma as Robin left. "Here, look what I've brought you," he said, picking up the plush toy from where it had sat between him and Robin.

"Doggie," Emma smiled.

In the kitchen, Robin found Anna at the sink, filling the tea kettle. The running water drowned out Anna's sniffling as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

"Mom?" Robin ventured.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. It's just…seeing Duke with Emma…. It suddenly made me think of our baby. The baby we lost. I'm being silly, I know. That was so long ago. And I don't know if Duke even remembers that yet…."

"It's not silly, Mom. It's perfectly natural."

"I just…I wish it weren't too late for Duke and me, you know? These past few days, I guess I've sort of hoped for a miracle. You know: 'Granny Gets Preggers.'" Anna tried to laugh.

"That's understandable. You guys wanted a baby so much. I wanted you to have one too. But…," Robin's tone turned from sympathetic to solicitous, "Mom, you've been using protection, haven't you?" Dr. Scorpio had donned her metaphorical white coat.

"It's Duke," Anna said, surprised, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, I know it's Duke, but it's been a long time, Mom. You have to use condoms, and you have to ask him to take an HIV test. And what about you? You had one, right? I mean, the last guy you dated was Eli the Petri Dish."

"Yes, I'm fine," Anna said dismissively, busying herself with tea bags, mugs, and the hot water from the kettle. "And Duke's fine."

"How could you know that? You'd better ask him, Mom. If you don't, I'm going to."

"Robin! You wouldn't dare."

"Oh no? I'm a doctor, Mom. And I'm HIV positive, remember? I have no problem having this discussion, with anyone."

"Oh, alright! Stop fussing, Robin. I'll talk to him."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise!" It was another lie. This was becoming quite the habit with her, she thought. But sharing sexual histories with Duke was not a discussion she was about to have. She didn't want to know, and she most certainly did not want to tell. And blood-test results would change nothing for them. It didn't matter. "Now we'd better get back before he wonders what we're up to. Does Emma need a bottle?"

"Yeah, I'll get it. You go ahead."

Anna headed out of the kitchen with the tea tray. Back in the living room, she set the tray on the coffee table in front of Duke, who was telling Emma, "And your mummy took dancing lessons, and piano lessons-does she play piano for you, hmm?" Then, as Anna sat down beside him, he explained, "I was just telling Emma what her mother was like as a little girl. Just seeing Robin now, it brings it all back to me. We were happy, huh?"

"We were very happy."

Duke noted that she did not sound entirely happy. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine." Anna forced a smile, but again Duke heard the quaver in her voice.

He took her hand and leaned over to kiss her temple. "Hey. What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. It can wait, really. We'll talk later, back in our room. Okay?"

"You're sure?"

"I am. I'm sure. Let's just play with our granddaughter, okay?"

"Okay." He kissed her again, a warm peck on the lips. Then, kissing Emma, "And a bonny wee lass she is, our grandbabby." Emma giggled as his deep burr tickled her soft little cheek.

DNA's hotel suite

Duke followed Anna through the door, into the sitting room, his hand at the small of her back. "Well, that was a very pleasant afternoon, wasn't it?" he said. "Now, are you ready to tell me what's bothering you?"

Anna sat on the sofa and took a very deep breath. Duke sat down beside her.

"You know how happy I am with you, don't you?" Anna asked. "I'm so very happy you're here. I feel…like my life has been given back to me. Like I've been some other person, and now, with you-I'm me again."

"I know. I feel exactly the same way. Maybe more so. Daniel Lund never felt like this. I never felt things so deeply. I love you, so much. Do you know, I never said that, to anyone, in all these years? I love you, Anna."

She looked at him with awe and ardor, then gave him a kiss that reflected it.

"So if we're so happy," Duke asked gently when she released him, "why all the tears, hmm?"

"Because we could've been so much happier! We missed out on so much. That little girl we held today-my granddaughter-she could've truly been OUR granddaughter, Duke. Yours and mine. We were meant to have a child. A baby of our own, do you remember? It would've been all grown up now, and maybe starting a family, just like Robin. But we lost that child. And then we lost each other. And there are some things we'll never get back."

Duke felt his heart turn over-and then crack, as her words brought to the surface another long-suppressed memory: their baby-his and Anna's. Their lost little Lavery. He remembered opening a door and seeing Anna looking small and broken in a hospital bed, her face swollen by bruises, exhaustion, and tears. He'd been unable to move at first, pinned down helplessly by the weight of sorrow. And then she'd turned and looked at him, and as always, he was drawn to her, with halting steps as he tried to fight his way through the pain. He dropped to the edge of the bed, his legs giving way and his lungs giving out as sobs ripped through him. Her arms came around him tightly, and he clung to her and cried as he hadn't in a very, very long time-not since the day his childhood ended, the day he could do nothing but helplessly stand by as his father was crushed in an accident on the Liverpool docks. As Anna rocked him and hushed him and whispered, "Don't cry," he was engulfed by grief and guilt even greater than that which he'd felt as that 12-year-old boy. He hadn't protected Anna; he hadn't protected their child. He'd failed them both, he thought-he didn't deserve them. This was his punishment. There would be no daughter to wear the family luckenbooth; no son to be taught to cast a fishing line as Duke's father had taught him. He would not see a contented smile on Anna's face as, in a darkened nursery, she rocked a sleeping bairn upon her breast.

The pain of this recollection oozed like a reopened wound, unhealed after so many years deprived of air and acknowledgment. "Our baby…" he said pensively. "That's what you thought of, when I met Emma?"

"Yes. Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand." This retrospection did neither of them any good, though, he thought. She was close to tears again, and he…well, he refused to compound her pain with his own. His Scots stoicism kicked in. "We shouldn't…dwell on the past, Anna. You know, that's the one good thing about living half my life with no memories: Neither did I have any regrets. And now I've found you…and I'm happier than I thought possible…and yet suddenly there are so many, many regrets…. Can you let them go, Anna? Can we live in this present moment-live for our future?"

She knew he was right. "Yes. We'll live for today. And tomorrow." She kissed him softly. "And tomorrow." Kiss. "And tomorrow…."

And yet a part of her knew she was still lying. As she'd lied to Robin about the AIDS tests. As she'd lied to Duke about the full story of Faison. As she'd lied to herself about quitting the agency. Yes, that was a lie, she acknowledged. For she needed them now more than ever. She needed their information, she needed their resources, she needed their power: to help her find Cesar Faison and make him pay for what he'd done to Duke, to her, and to the life they could've had.


	5. Part 5: Sexy GreenEyed Monster

**Sexy Green-Eyed Monster**

Bedroom of DNA's hotel suite. Duke and Anna are nearly finished dressing; he's buttoning his shirt buttons, tying his shoes, etc., as Anna is putting on earrings, applying lipstick, and so on.

"So you're meeting Robin for coffee today," Anna double-checks.

"Mm-hm. Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

"I'd love to. But I'm beginning to feel selfish, keeping you all to myself. You and Robin should go on, take some time together, without me or Emma."

"I'll miss you."

"Good. I'll miss you, too. Terribly. But absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?"

"I think we're certainly the proof of that." They kiss. "So what are you gonna do today?"

"I thought I'd go to Wyndham's; do some shopping."

"For anything in particular?"

"Maybe." Anna gave him a sly smile. "It's a surprise."

"I know my memory's not what it used to be, but didn't you used to claim that you didn't like surprises?"

"After this week…they're growing on me. Besides, the surprise is for you."

"Should I hurry back then?" Duke suggested hopefully.

"No, don't do that. I also have to stop and speak to Robert afterward."

"Robert? As in Robert Scorpio, your ex-husband?"

"You remember him, do you?" Anna answered warily.

"I guess he makes a lasting impression. But don't you ever tell him I said that. I'm sure it's exactly what he'd like to hear-if I recall correctly, his head is big enough already."

Anna laughed. "You're right about that."

"So Robert is still hanging around Port Charles?"

"Yes, he's here. He has a daughter and granddaughter here, just like we do." Anna was the slightest bit defensive, marveling that, of all the things to survive Duke's 20 years of amnesia intact, his ambivalence about Robert was obviously one of them.

"Humph." Duke looked vaguely dissatisfied with that explanation. "And what is it…what do you have to talk to him about?" he asked. He was trying to be nonchalant, but Anna knew him too well and could hear the unspoken suspicion.

"Just business," Anna answered innocently. Highly personal business, she thought-the most important assignment of her life: finding Faison, and exacting revenge.

"Don't be too long, will you?" Duke pulled Anna in for a kiss.

"No, I won't." Anna kissed him back. "I promise." Another kiss. "Say hi to Robin for me."

"I will," Duke said as he walked through the hotel room door, holding Anna's hand till the last possible second. And then she followed him over the threshold and kissed him yet again. "Mmm," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. Anna giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned backward and let gravity pull the two of them back into the suite. "She'll think I've stood her up, if you don't let me go," Duke mumbled without ever taking his lips off Anna's.

Anna released a heavy sigh and moved her lips to Duke's jaw. "I don't suppose I can do that to my own daughter."

"No, you've taught her better manners than that."

"Oh, alright, then." Anna stroked his face. "Hurry back. You don't want to miss your surprise."

"You know it." Duke kissed her hand, and then took it in his and dropped it to allow himself to successfully exit the room this time. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Anna shut the door behind him, peeping through the opening until it had closed completely.

Alone in the room, Anna went into the bedroom and retrieved her cell phone from the nightstand. She hit speed dial and then listened to the ring.

"Hello?" answered a woman's British public-school accent.

"Holly? It's Anna. Is Robert in?"

"Just a moment, please…. Darling, are you available to speak to your ex-wife?"

Anna heard the unmistakable sound of bedsprings creaking, and cringed. Then she heard Robert's voice: "Wuh?"

In the Scorpios' townhouse, Robert lifted his cheek from Holly's bare shoulder and tried to squint away the sleep. "Put her on."

He lifted his arm from around Holly's waist, and she handed him the phone, whereupon he asked his ex, "Do you have any idea what time it is? It's…it's…" He leaned toward the alarm clock on the bedside table and squinted harder. "…Oh. It's 10…. So whaddya want?"

"Robert, could I meet up with you at the office later today?" Anna asked.

"What's up?"

"You'll never believe it…. Duke is alive!" Just speaking the words, Anna could barely contain her joy. Her smile fairly beamed through the phone.

"Lavery? He's back from the dead again, huh? That's great, luv. Good for him. So-o-o-o…whaddya need me for?" He rolled his eyes for the benefit of Holly, who ruffled his hair.

"Robert, Duke says that Faison is responsible for his being gone all these years. I need you to help me find Faison. You must know something, about what's happened to him."

"Anna, even if Duke's not dead, Faison is. Anybody at the agency could tell you that…"

"I'm not asking the agency, Robert. I'm asking you. Please, you have to help me with this. You know Faison, better than anyone…," she pleaded.

Not better than you, Robert thought with a touch of bitterness. But hearing the desperation in Anna's voice, he said with annoyance, "Alright, alright. Meet me at the office in an hour." This was a fool's errand anyway, he thought. Faison was dead, end of story. So as Holly mussed his hair again and gave him a meaningful look, he amended, "Make that two hours."

* * *

><p><em>GH cafeteria<em>

Duke and Robin sat across a table from one another, their hands clasped beside two steaming Styrofoam cups of tea. "It was wonderful to see you the other day, and to meet your little Emma," Duke said, "but I'm glad to have the chance to get caught up, just the two of us."

"Definitely," Robin agreed. "I missed you so much," she added wistfully.

"I know. I'm sorry," Duke said sincerely. "I so wanted to watch you grow up…. You know if there'd been any possible way for me to get back to you and your mother, I'd have been here."

"I know."

"You've grown into a beautiful young woman, Robin. As beautiful as your mum."

"Oh, yeah, I wish," Robin blushed.

"You are. And a mother, and a doctor…. Anna's very proud of you, you know."

"I can't believe I've got all of you back." Robin shook her head, getting choked up. "Mom, and Dad, and now you."

Duke handed her his handkerchief. "I'm sorry, I didn't come here to make you cry…. Tell me about the happy times, would you? I wanna hear about all the wonderful things I missed."

Robin laughed through her last few sniffles. "Well, like you said, I'm a mom. That's what makes me happiest, I guess, now. Um…it was really tough, at first. I mean, it's still tough, sometimes-that's just parenthood, isn't it? But after Emma was born, I had…uh…postpartum depression…."

Duke could see that this was difficult for her to talk about. His poor little lady, he thought. She'd lost nearly her entire family, she'd fought so hard for her own life, and even motherhood had been a struggle for her. He ached for her, wishing there were something he could say to make things easier for her. Clearly, she'd inherited her mother's strength and determination.

"God, you asked me about happy memories, didn't you?" Robin apologized.

"It's alright, luv. You tell me whatever you need to tell me. If talking about it helps, I'll listen. I just wish I could've been here to try to help you through it all."

"Yeah, me too. I wish you'd been here too. But you're here now, so let's see, what are the other highlights of the life and times of Robin Scorpio?" she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, being a doctor, trying to help people. That's really important to me. And then there's Patrick…."

"You love him?"

"I do. We have our moments, of course, like any couple. But overall, it's really good."

"I'm glad."

"I wish you'd been at our wedding. I thought about you that day. I think Mom did, too. Well, I could show you pictures. If you'd like to see them, I mean. I understand if you don't…."

"Of course I'd like to. Who wouldn't want to see such a beautiful bride?"

Robin pulled her BlackBerry from the pocket of her lab coat. "Let's see…'Family Photos'…" She began fast-forwarding through a slide show in reverse chronological order, as Duke bent his head next to hers over the little screen. "There's Emma. Emma. Emma. Awww, Emma. Patrick and Emma. Me, Emma, and Mom. Emma, Dad, and Holly. There we are: Me and Patrick, dancing. There's us with Mom and Dad. And with Uncle Mac. There's Maxie. And Georgie. Mac and Felicia. Oh, these are really old ones. Me at the Sorbonne. Stone, my first love. Me, Mom, and Dad-look at those hats…"

"Was that a costume party?" Duke asked doubtfully.

"No, their wedding. Can you believe it?"

Robin continued flipping though pictures, without looking at Duke, and she didn't notice that he didn't share her amusement when he said, "I can't believe it…."

"…Me with little Maxie and Georgie. Oh, here's you and Mom…. And, well, I guess you know the rest…." Robin looked at Duke and realized that he had stopped listening and stopped smiling. He was just sitting, staring at the cup of tea in front of him. "Uncle Duke? Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry, luv," he said, catching himself and smiling guiltily at her. "You know, I've just realized I have to have a word with your father."

"Now?" Robin was surprised and confused.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I hate to go, but…" He rose from his chair and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "We'll finish catching up later?"

"Uh, yeah, of course."

"Okay, then. I love you. I'll see you later." He walked quickly from the cafeteria.

"Yeah…bye. Love you, too," Robin called after him, concerned.

* * *

><p>Duke burst in the door of Robert's office.<p>

Robert rose out of his desk chair, saying, "Well, look who it is. The prodigal Scotsman. I was wondering when you'd turn up."

Duke crossed the room in a flash, hauled back, and delivered a solid punch to Robert's jaw that sent him sprawling to the floor.

Robert tried to shake it off and struggle to his feet. "Bloody hell, Lavery. It's nice to see you, too. What the hell was that for?"

"Oh, like you don't know! That's for marrying MY WIFE."

"Ah-ha. Well, technically, she was my wife first, remember. And you're a little slow on the uptake, as usual. That was years ago, mate. Old news. Water under the bridge."

"Oh, yeah right, as if you've ever burned any bridges where Anna's concerned."

"You know, you're not really making a lot of sense, mate. How 'bout we go have a beer, talk this out."

"I'm not having a beer with _you_," Duke sneered.

Just then, Anna came through the door, carrying a Wyndham's shopping bag and calling, "Robert?" Upon seeing Duke, she stopped, surprised. "Duke, darling, what are you doing here?"

"I think he thinks he's defending your honor," Robert informed her. "Or his ego. Or something. It's hard to tell with this one."

"Oh, you just shut up," Duke spat.

"Duke, what's the matter?" Anna asked. "What's gotten in to you?"

"The issue, my love, is what's-or rather who's-gotten into you," Duke accused.

Anna looked as if she'd been slapped, and instantly realized what was transpiring.

Robert was finally done with the jokes. "Don't you talk to her like that."

Anna collected herself and warned, with a steely voice, "Robert, don't. Stay out of this."

"He won't stay out of it," Duke complained angrily. "That's the whole problem. He's never stayed out of it. He's never just left us alone. Always waiting to swoop in and rescue the damsel in distress. How long did you wait, Scorpio, after I was gone, to comfort the grieving young widow? Was the bed even cold yet?"

"Duke, it wasn't like that…," Anna tried to explain.

"Listen, you,-" Robert began.

"I'm not listening to you," Duke interrupted. "I'm not listening to anything you have to say. I wouldn't be surprised if you had a hand in the whole thing. Somebody had to tip off the Jeromes that Anna and I were going to rendezvous at that warehouse. How many people knew that, Scorpio, besides you and the federal marshals who ran into that death trap with me?"

Robert advanced on him. "Alright, now you've crossed the line, Lavery."

Anna stepped between the two men and grabbed Duke's arm, trying to pull him toward the door. "Duke. Duke, let's just go. Come on, we'll go back to our room and talk this through. I can explain everything. Please. Come talk to me."

Duke grudgingly let her lead him to the door. "You stay away from her, Scorpio. You hear me?"

"Just get out," Robert said, disgusted.

* * *

><p>Duke strode into the hotel suite steps ahead of Anna. He crossed through the sitting room and into the bedroom, and pulled a suitcase from the closet, flinging it open on the bed. He grabbed hangers full of clothes from the closet and tossed them into the luggage. Anna followed him into the room and, tossing the shopping bag onto the bed as well, asked, "What are you doing?"<p>

"What does it look like?"

"Just like that? You're not even going to let me explain?"

"What is there to explain, Anna? Robin explained it all to me: You married Robert. Your daughter sat there and showed me your charming wedding portrait."

"Oh, it wasn't that simple! And anyway, now it's OVER. Even if I wanted Robert, which I most certainly don't, he's with Holly."

"That's what you always said, that it was over. But it wasn't, was it? After all the times I asked if you still loved him, all the times you denied it-I turned my back and you went back to him. How can I believe you now? Does Robert's Holly believe you?" He paused, and his voice grew quiet. "I know there were many things I kept from you, Anna. Many things I didn't tell you, things I lied about. But the one thing I was always truthful about-always-was that I love you. And even now, after all these years we've spent apart, I can honestly tell you that you're the only woman I've ever loved. The only woman I will ever love. But if I can't trust that you love me, what do we have left?"

"I DO love you. I love you! Robert has nothing to do with that."

"Robert has everything to do with that. How many times was it thrown in my face that Robert was the first man you loved, that he was the father of your child? I won't be your consolation prize, Anna, hangin' around until the great Robert Scorpio decides he wants you back again."

"Well, you certainly don't have to worry about that. Yes, Robert and I remarried. I'd lost you, and Robert had lost Holly, and both of us were broken. Marriage seemed like the best thing to do for Robin. But it was a mistake. An unmitigated disaster. Robert and I fought, about everything. But especially about Faison."

"Faison? What does he have to do with this?" Her story was going from bad to worse, Duke thought, unconsciously twisting the clothes hanger, holding a grey dress shirt, that he still clenched in his fists.

"He came to Port Charles on the day Robert and I married. And before long, he'd lured me away from Robert and Robin, with his mind games. He compromised me just the way he did you, and then he held me hostage. When Robert came after us, all three of us were in an explosion. We survived, but afterward, I didn't know who I was; I didn't remember I had a daughter who needed me. And Robert knew, but he didn't help me, Duke. He left me to rot for 15 years, until Alex found me and cured me. I've forgiven him, for Robin's sake. And I've tried to be his friend. He survived cancer-do you know that?-and I tried to support him through that. But I won't be going back to Robert. Not ever."

They stared silently at one another for a moment, unable to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them.

"And in all those years, Anna, was Robert the only one? You promised me once that I was the last man you'd ever be with. I must've been a fool to believe you…."

Anna was silent, afraid to confess anything else.

Seeing her reticence, Duke threw the now wrinkled shirt on its mangled hanger to the floor, crossed to Anna, and grabbed her upper arms. "Who was it? Faison? Sean Donely? Who?"

Anna recoiled. "God, no! I promise you…." She pulled from his grasp and turned away from him, speaking quietly, feeling she had no choice. "After Alex found me, she took me to her home, in a place called Pine Valley. I had to try to build some kind of life for myself, Duke. Robin was grown, away at medical school; she had her own life…." She began chewing on her thumbnail in distress. "I met a man, a doctor named David Hayward. He was a brilliant surgeon-and a brilliant egomaniac. And another mistake. God, I've made so many." She turned to look at Duke. "You were dead, or so I thought, and Robert and I were finished, and I was just so lonely."

"Do you think I wasn't lonesome, Anna?" Duke asked calmly but painfully. "You think there weren't women who would've made me a comfortable home, given me children? But I didn't want that with any of them. I didn't know how to build that kind of life, without you in it."

Anna stared at him in agonized awe. "I don't know what else to say, Duke. I can't change the past. And I wouldn't if I could. Because David gave me a child. A beautiful little girl."

"A daughter? Where is she? With this man, this David?"

Anna tried to force herself to feel numb, to protect herself from this memory. "No. She's dead."

Duke was chastened by her obvious pain. "I'm sorry, Anna."

"It was a difficult pregnancy. Dr. Collins was right, all those years ago, when she told me I couldn't carry a child to term. You remember?"

"Of course I remember," he answered almost tenderly.

"My baby had a heart defect. She had to have surgery, even before she was born. And then she came early, and it was a miracle that she lived any time at all. _She_ was a miracle. Leora." Anna teared up as she spoke the name. "She was the strongest person I've ever known, that little girl. She fought _so_ hard. And then, after a few weeks, she was gone. It was over…." She continued matter-of-factly. "And David and I were over too. You see, it wasn't like when you and I lost the baby, and we grew closer together. No, David is not a man like you. He blamed himself; he blamed me. And it was all over. All of it. Just like that." She paused. "But I will not apologize for my daughter, Duke. Not to David. Not to you. Not to anyone. Not ever."

"I'm sorry, Anna, about your child. You know I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Least of all you."

Anna stepped toward him and slipped her arms around his waist. "I do know. So please, don't do this now. I know I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I never, ever meant for that to happen. If only I'd known you were alive. I'd never have stopped searching for you, you know that…. Please don't turn away from me-from us. You and I, we can get past this. You always used to say we were meant to be together. Remember? I believe that. It's a miracle that we've found our way back to each other again. Don't let's throw it away now. We love each other…."

Duke was torn. "How…how am I to know you didn't say these same things to Robert? You told me once you always thought he'd come back to you." His anguish mounted again. "And you were right. He came back for you. And every time I look at you, Anna, I picture you in his arms. It tears me up inside…."

"I told you, it's over! Don't think about that! Look at _me_. Just me. Right here, in front of you. Holding you." She put a hand to his beloved face. "Loving you…. Hold me, Duke. Make love to me."

She slid her arms beneath his shoulders and kissed him deeply. Duke, still angered but wanting her in spite of himself, ran a hand up her back and over the nape of her neck. He entwined his fingers in her hair, then twisted his hand, wrapping a thick coil around his wrist, and pulled her head back, exposing her neck, which he kissed-and then bit. Anna gasped with as much pleasure as pain. With his free hand, he spun her around to face away from him. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, crushing her against him.

Duke murmured fiercely against her ear: "You're not thinking of him now, Anna? You never thought of him in our bed? You won't think of him again?"

Anna, breathless and desperate, employed his old tactic of using seduction to try to heal the rift. "Don't. Stop. Just shut up. Just fuck me, Duke."

Her profanity had the desired effect: He flung her forward onto the bed, and as she looked back over her shoulder at him, he grabbed her hips, harshly, pulled her to him, and pushed up her skirt. The interlewd was rough and raw and urgent.

* * *

><p>Afterward, Duke stepped away as Anna sat up. She turned to face him and reached out a hand toward him as he tucked his shirttails back into his trousers and buckled his belt. He walked around the side of the bed to the suitcase, flipped the lid shut, zipped it, and headed toward the door with it.<p>

"Duke, please…." she begged.

He stopped, turned, looked at her regretfully, turned back, and walked through the door.

Her eyes welling with tears, Anna collapsed back onto the mattress, causing the surprise silk negligee to slither out of the Wyndham's bag. "Dammit!" She flung the lingerie to the floor.

After a few moments, she got up, went into the bathroom, and ran a steaming hot shower. As she stepped under the scorching water, she winced as the stream hit the tender spot on her hip where Duke's fingers had pressed deeply into her flesh. It prompted her to replay the entire exchange in her mind, almost disbelieving that it had ended with him walking out the door. Her memory drifted farther back, to those promises he spoke of:

_You promise me you won't ever be with another man, ever? _

_I promise… _

_Yes, I care about Robert. But you've got my heart._

_For you, Duke, I'll stay within that circle. And I pledge you my eternal love. That is my solemn vow._

And as the long minutes ticked by, and she realized Duke was not going to slip silently into the shower behind her, materializing through the steam, as she'd half-expected he would, she gave way to helpless tears.

* * *

><p>Later…Anna laid propped up against the bed pillows, in a robe, still lost in thought. Suddenly, she was roused by a knock at the door. Hoping it was Duke, she dashed to open it, forgetting even to look through the peephole. She yanked it open to find Robin standing there.<p>

"Oh, hullo, darling," Anna said with disappointment and love intermingling.

Robin noticed the disappointment. "Are you alright? I've been trying your cell all day, but you didn't pick up…."

Closing the door behind Robin, Anna tried to cover. "Yes, yes, of course, I'm fine. How are you? How's Emma?"

"We're good. I was just wondering: Did Uncle Duke find Daddy? He rushed off earlier, saying he had to talk to Dad about something. It was a little weird.… Is everything okay?"

Anna laughed bitterly. "Oh yes, Duke found your father…."

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"Well, Duke's a little upset…."

As Anna trailed off, Robin prompted her to continue. "Okay…. Why….?"

Anna sighed. "Well, until his conversation with you….he didn't know your father and I had remarried."

Robin was incredulous. "What? You haven't told him that? Mom, I told you that you had to talk to him about that stuff," she scolded. "About Dad, and everyone else. You promised!"

"I couldn't, Robin! This is exactly why I couldn't. He's furious with me, now that he knows." Anna tried to explain, if not defend, Duke's reaction. "There's always been tension between Duke and your father. They tried to hide it from you. They knew that wasn't something a little girl should see. But…Duke's always been very jealous. And he thinks that since Robert and I got back together once, that means we could do it again."

"Even I know that's not gonna happen. Didn't you tell him that Dad is with Holly?"

"Of course I did! It didn't matter. Duke knows that your father and Holly were married when you and I first came to Port Charles. He knows that it took me a long time to get over your father back then. So, I guess he thinks that perhaps I still haven't, really."

"Do you want me to try to talk to him?"

"No!" Anna said emphatically. "No, just leave him alone." She shivered and began pacing. "Oh, Robin, he's _so_ angry. I've never seen him like this. Thank god he still knows nothing about Eli…."

Robin was frightened by her mother's distress. "Mom, Duke didn't…hurt you, did he?"

Anna answered immediately: "No, you know he would never do that. You know that, don't you?"

"Well, I _thought_ I did. But you seem so upset. And it doesn't seem like Duke's acting rationally."

Anna gave an ironic little sniff. "No, but when has your stepfather ever been rational? It's just like him to let his emotions get the better of him. It's why I love him, really. His passion…."

"Okay, we're getting dangerously close to TMI, here."

"TMI?"

"Too much information…. Look, I know Duke loves you, too. He'll come around. Just give him a little time."

"But we've lost so much time already…."

"I know, but what else can you do? Um, I have to get back to the hospital. Call me later? Let me know you're alright?"

On top of everything else, Anna now felt guilty about worrying her daughter. "Of course. I'm fine, really. I'm sure you're right: Duke and I will work everything out."

Robin hugged her. "Yes, you will. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

* * *

><p>Moments later, Robin was walking across the hotel lobby toward the exit. She happened to look into the Port Charles Grille and saw a familiar figure sitting at the bar. Forgetting about GH, she made a detour into the Grille, approaching the man and saying, tentatively, "Duke?"<p>

Duke looked up, bleary-eyed and morose. "Hm? Oh, hi, sweetheart." He rose from the bar stool to greet her with a peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry about our date earlier."

"That's okay. I'm sorry I…blurted that out about my Mom and Dad…. I thought you knew already."

"What? That Anna loves Robert. Oh, I knew. I just didn't want to admit it."

Robin was flustered. This was not going the way she'd hoped. "No! Just that they got remarried. They don't love each other anymore. I mean, not that way. Oh, god, I'm making a mess of this. I should've listened to Mom…."

"Did your mother send you?"

"No! No. In fact, she asked me not to talk to you."

"Did she? I don't think Anna's in a position right now to tell either one of us who we can and cannot talk to. So will you join me for a drink?" He indicated his half-empty glass.

"Um, okay, sure."

Duke signaled to the bartender. "A drink for the lady."

"A glass of shiraz, please," Robin specified.

"And another of these for me," Duke added.

"So…Mom really wants to be with you, you know. There's nothing between her and my Dad anymore."

"You shouldn't feel you have to take sides, Robin. Especially not against your father. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask that."

"But you're not asking. And I'm not taking sides. I'm just telling you the truth, Uncle Duke. You have to believe me. You're the Great Love of my mother's life, you know."

"I used to hope so."

"It's true. When she met you, everything changed. For me, too. I've never seen her happy like that, before or since. I mean, yeah, you guys went through a lot. But even as a little girl, I knew that you and my Mom were meant to be together. And then, when we thought you were dead…. Mom tried to get her life together, to move on. Mostly for me, I think. But she was hurting so much. It was like, for a couple of years, she was stuck. As hard as she tried, she couldn't move forward. And I think my Dad felt the same way about Holly. So at some point, I think they both thought that if they couldn't move forward, maybe they could go backward instead. So they got married. And yeah, I was happy about that. I mean, I think every kid wants their parents to be together. Even me, even though I'd never seen them together in the first place. And I thought maybe they'd both be happy again."

"You deserved that," Duke assured her. "To be happy. To be safe. That's why I left, you know-to keep you and your mother safe."

"Yeah, but it didn't work out that way. Mom and Dad fought a lot. It was like they didn't even like each other sometimes. And then that guy Faison came back and took Mom, so Dad went to find her, and then everybody thought Mom and Dad were both dead. And I was all alone, except for Uncle Mac, and Felicia, and Sean and Tiffany."

"Uncle Mac?"

My dad's brother. He was in a couple of the photos I showed you. He raised me. He's great. But you know, I was still so angry at Mom and Dad for leaving me. And I felt guilty, too. I thought that if it hadn't been for me, they never would've gotten back together and maybe they'd both still be alive. And sometimes I even thought that if you hadn't died, Mom would still be with you, and none of it would've happened…."

"Robin. None of that was your fault. You were a little girl. It was your parents' job-and mine as well-to protect you. I know we're all sorry we weren't around to do that."

"Yeah, I know. Mom tells me that all the time. It gets kind of annoying sometimes, actually," Robin said with a half-joking half-smile. "And so of course I forgive her. She did the best she could, the best she knew how. Now that I've got Emma, I totally understand that. But we've all lost so much time, Duke. So I don't think any of us should waste any more of it. Mom loves you _so_ much…."

Duke stared into his glass. "You don't know how much I wanna believe that…. But your parents have had their differences before. And they still made their way back to each other. I couldn't stand to lose your mother."

Robin was exasperated by his stubbornness. "You don't have to worry about that! Do you know what my mother did when she saw Dad for the first time in _15 years_? She tried to kick his ass! She was furious with him. Did she try to beat _you_ up when she first saw you again?"

Duke looked at Robin with a grudging smile at both the image of Anna's wrath turned on Robert and the memory of his own recent reunion with her. "No, she did not."

"You and Mom are supposed to be together. Just like Dad is supposed to be with Holly. Please, Uncle Duke, just go and talk to her."

Duke slipped back into belligerence. "I _have_ talked to her…"

"And what did she say?"

"A lot of what you just said. And more."

"Well, maybe you should believe us, then."

* * *

><p>Back in Anna's room. Another knock at the door. Dressed now, Anna remembered to check the peephole this time, and sighed: "Oh, thank god!"<p>

She flung open the door to throw her arms around Duke's neck, hungrily latching her mouth onto his. He gathered her in his own arms, wrapping one around her waist and the other across her shoulders. After a long, greedy kiss, Anna pulled back to catch her breath-and asked: "You are coming back to make up, aren't you?"

Duke smiled. "I am."

Anna kissed him again, drawing him into the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Trailing kisses up the side of his face, she asked, "What changed your mind?"

"Your daughter."

Taken aback, Anna literally took a step back. "Robin? I asked her not to speak to you."

"You should be glad she has a mind of her own, then."

"How did she even know where to find you? She left here no more than an hour ago."

"I hadn't gotten very far. No farther than the bar downstairs. I had nowhere else to go. And I couldn't stand to be apart from you, really."

Another volley of kisses.

"So you're ready to leave the past in the past?" Anna asked hopefully. "Concentrate on our future?"

"Mm-hm. And you are as well. You won't speak to Robert again. Not ever."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You can't ask me to do that."

"Why not? You claim you want only me, not Robert. Prove it, Anna."

"I can't do that! You know that. Robert and I, we have a daughter, and a granddaughter."

"Plenty of divorced couples make a concerted effort to avoid each other at all costs. You and Robert wouldn't be the first."

"Oh, and have you told Robin about this little plan of yours? And besides which, Robert and I have professional ties."

"Your agency," Duke said grimly.

"Yes."

"Tell them you'll take no assignments involving your ex-husband. The two of you don't get on. Isn't that the truth, Anna? Isn't that what you've been trying to convince me of?"

"It's the truth, but it's not the point. You've got to trust me, Duke."

"Because you tell me to? Give me reason to, Anna. Make me this promise. Show me you can keep it this time."

"I love you. I can't say it enough." She turned self-righteous. "But that doesn't give you the right to run my life…"

"That's not what I'm doing. I'm simply asking you, one last time, Anna, to choose: Me or Robert. It's that simple."

"It is, is it? Then…." A pregnant pause. "You. Always you. Only you."

Duke stared at her possessively, then laid claim to her mouth with his own, with no intention of stopping until she yielded utterly to him, crying out his name.


	6. Part 6: Cliffhangers

Cliffhangers

Anna pulled the car off the gravel road and parked it in front of a fairy-tale cottage with ivy and climbing roses framing the door. She and Duke emerged from the vehicle, and she walked around the front bumper to him and took his hand in hers. "This place was very special to us. Very special. It was our…refuge. Our little piece of heaven, really, away from the rest of the world."

"Sounds lovely," Duke said, kissing her. "You still have a key?" he continued doubtfully.

Anna winked at him and her face lit up with a wicked grin. "I can do better than a key." She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and withdrew what looked like a cigarette case. She flipped it open. "Ta-da!" An array of stainless steel picks and files glinted in the late-afternoon sun. She ran her finger across them, chose one, pulled it out of the case with a flourish, and marched to the front door. Turning back to Duke, she held out the case on her flattened palm and requested, "Hold this, please."

"Certainly," he answered, amused, and took the case from her. She slid the chosen pick carefully into the lock, then looked back at Duke again, and then down at the remaining instruments. "Hm, let's see," she pondered. "This one." She extracted another tool and deftly slid it, too, into the lock. Within seconds, there was an audible click. Anna removed the tools from the keyhole, turned the doorknob, and pushed.

The door held fast. "Hmph," Anna said, with a look of consternation, blowing out of the corner of her mouth at a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "It's unlocked. Must be stuck." With her hand still on the knob, she threw her hip against the door. It didn't budge.

"Allow me," Duke said, putting an arm around her waist, pulling her away from the door, and taking her place in front of it. Gripping the knob, he rammed the door with his shoulder, forcing it open it with a bang. "Ladies first," he offered, sweeping his arm over the threshold with a little bow.

"Thank you," Anna replied, walking through the doorway. "We make a good team, you know," she observed, looking back at him.

"I think so," Duke agreed, handing her the lock-pick set, wrapping his arms around her waist, and kissing her. He looked around the interior of the cabin as if seeing it for the first time. "It's perfect."

"Mm-hm. You bought this place, for us, once upon a time." Tucking the slim silver case back into her pocket, Anna perused the surroundings as well, noting how little had changed. If anything, the cottage was even more quaint, more cozy, than in the long-gone days when it had been their lovers' hideaway. The shabby-chic decorating trend of the late '90s had come to stay, with an overstuffed, floral-pattern sofa and sage-plaid side chair, a distressed white-painted dining table with mismatched chairs in the tiny eating area, and chintz curtains at the windows.

"Well, I had excellent taste," Duke congratulated himself.

"You did. You married me," Anna agreed, kissing him.

"That's true. And I'd do it again."

"You would?" Anna asked hopefully.

"Mm-hm."

"So…is that a proposal?"

"When I propose to you, Anna, you'll know it." He kissed her, and Anna felt a frisson of anticipation travel down her spine, at the passion and the promise.

"Now let me go get those groceries from the car," Duke continued, beginning to turn back toward the door.

"Wait." Anna grabbed his hand, stopping him. "They can wait," she insisted, moving her grip to the lapels of his jacket and pulling him to face her again. She kissed him, dragging him along with her as she took backward steps toward the couch and flopped down amongst the puffy cushions, pulling him on top of her.

The next morning, Anna and Duke sat at the artfully battered kitchen table tucking into a huge English breakfast of eggs, rashers of bacon, tomatoes, buttered toast, and kippers.

"So, what would you like to do today?" Duke asked while taking a sip of coffee. "You know, I know I glimpsed the river as we were driving up here… How about…perhaps we could go fishing?" he finished hopefully.

"Ooooh, sorry," Anna apologized with obvious insincerity. "I have to be getting back to Port Charles. I promised Robin I'd go with her to take Emma clothes shopping. She's growing so quickly, that girl."

"Now, why would you do that?" Duke grumbled, disappointed. "It was your idea to come up here."

"I know," Anna grinned mischievously. "But, you could come shopping with us, if you like."

"No, thank you," Duke declined emphatically. "I've seen how long it takes you to decide what to wear in the morning. I don't even want to think about the time it will take you and Robin to dress that little lady."

"True. We'll probably be awhile," Anna laughed. "So, you and I will enjoy this lovely breakfast, set this place to rights…" She looked around the "borrowed" cabin strewn with wine bottles, sofa pillows, mussed bed clothes, and hastily discarded apparel. "…And then head back to town?"

"Yes, after breakfast," Duke sighed, resigned. "Maybe not immediately after breakfast," he amended, grinning.

"Maybe not…" Anna mused, rising out of her seat and leaning across the table to meet his waiting lips.

Back in Port Charles, later that day, Anna steered the rental car down the High Street, her eyes darting frequently to the rear-view mirror, annoyed. Four cars behind, she knew, Duke was following her, in a dark sedan. She bit her thumbnail nervously and frowned. "He doesn't trust me," she mumbled to herself. "Of course, he shouldn't. I lied to him."

Suddenly, she noticed something worse. It wasn't only Duke trailing her. Several cars behind him, more inconspicuously than he, moved a black-clad motorcyclist. The cyclist had been patiently, carefully wending his way up, through the traffic, slowly closing the distance between himself and Duke.

"Damn it," Anna snapped. At least her timing wasn't completely off, she thought, making a left turn into the Wyndham's parking lot. She pulled the car into a space at the end of a row, cut the engine, then watched in the rear-view as the three cars immediately behind her passed the driveway. She opened the car door and began to step out, observing in the side-view mirror as Duke's car rolled slowly past. She felt his eyes on her, saw his reflection peering intently through the window at her. She drew a sigh of relief as, satisfied, convinced, he returned his attention to the road and drove on.

Anna dove back into the car, restarted the ignition, and threw the transmission into reverse. Turning to look out the back window, she careened backward toward the street, timing it perfectly to cut off the mysterious pursuer. She slammed on the brakes with a squeal, stopping inches in front of the cyclist. Leaving the car stopped diagonally across the lane of traffic, she sprang from the vehicle and stalked over to the spy.

"What the hell, lady?" a man griped as he removed his helmet.

"Why are you following Duke Lavery?" Anna demanded. Then she stopped in her tracks, finding herself peering into hostile, cold, piercing blue eyes.

"Anna…." Jason Morgan was, for once, taken aback. This was not good. "Listen, I'm sorry," he began, not at all apologetically, reverting to his usual deadpan demeanor. "I tried to tell Sonny this was a bad idea." This was true. He did not agree with Sonny that Robin's mother and stepfather could pose a threat to their business. They must be almost Monica's age, for cripes sake. "He cares about Robin. I care about her. We don't want to do anything to hurt her…. But when Sonny gets like this, when he gets an idea into his head, he doesn't want to listen."

"You tell MISTER Corinthos," Anna said slowly, deliberately, "that he has no idea who he's dealing with. NO idea. You tell him to back off, right? Neither Duke Lavery nor I have any interest in him, or whatever vile things he's up to. So don't MAKE me TAKE an interest. You'll tell him that?"

"Yeah. I'll tell him. Listen, Anna..."

She put up her hand, palm toward him, and shook her head emphatically. "No. We're done." She wheeled around, slid back into the car as the traffic piled up behind them continued to honk irately, and peeled off down High Street in the direction of Robert Scorpio's office.


	7. Part 6 Continued

**The Seekers**

Robert was on the phone as Anna entered his office. He held up an index finger to indicate that she should wait a moment as he finished his conversation. "Yeah, look into that, and get back to me. Okay." He hung up. "So, Lavery let you off your leash, did he?"

Anna sat in the chair across the desk from him. "Oh, don't joke, Robert. It's really not funny."

"No, I didn't think so either, when he sucker punched me." Robert wiggled his stiff jaw from side to side. "He's still a hothead, isn't he? Are you sure you want to sign up for this again, Anna? Didn't the guy cause you enough grief the first time around?"

"Oh, Robert. I love him. You know that. I never stopped. I'm not about to give him up. Which reminds me…" Anna squirmed in the chair. "He can't know that I was here."

"Why's that?"

"I've promised him I won't have any contact with you," Anna mumbled, chewing on her thumbnail and averting her eyes from Robert's.

Robert laughed. "Oh, that's rich."

"It'll blow over! He'll come 'round! Once he sees that there's AB-solutely nothing between us. He'll see how happy you are with Holly. He has to. It'll be alright. I know it will."

"Yeah, whatever you say, luv," Robert humored her.

"Look, can we just talk about why I've come? Faison."

"Why the sudden interest, Anna? Rappelling out of helicopters no longer enough excitement for you? You want to get involved with that madman again?"

"It's Duke."

"Of course. What else could it be?"

"Faison is the reason he's been gone all these years. He wiped Duke's memory, and he sent that…that…that…imposter, Paget! Robert, how could you let me believe that man was my husband?"

"I believed it too. Faison did a good job, Anna. He knew his game."

"Yes, well, game over. I'm putting a stop to it. I'm going to find him, and put a stop to him, once and for all. So help me find him, Robert."

"Look, how many times do I have to tell you? Faison is dead. He was killed. In a boat explosion."

"Well, yes, everyone thought we'd died in that explosion, too. I mean, we nearly did. But we survived. Why shouldn't Faison have done as well?"

"A different boat explosion."

"What? Are you kidding me, Robert?"

"I wish I were. The guy had nine lives. But the point is, he finally used them all up. Anna, if Faison were still alive, don't you think I would've hunted him down myself?"

Anna jumped out of her seat and threw her hands out in front of her, palms up, in a gesture of frustrated confusion. "Well, I don't know, Robert! After all, you didn't come find ME, now did you?"

Robert stood, too, slamming his hands on the surface of his desk. "Oh, come on, we've talked about this. I explained all that."

"Look, if you're not going to help me…. You didn't help me then, and obviously you're not going to now. So…so…so…just stay here, with Holly. I'll do this on my own." She turned on her heel, marched to the door and opened it, but then paused and looked back at her ex. "We used to be a team, Robert." Then she was gone, slamming the door shut behind her, before Scorpio could say anything else.

* * *

><p>Reassured and amused by the thought of his three ladies happily laying waste to Wyndham's department store, Duke turned the car in the direction of the Port Charles waterfront. The evening at the Haunted Star had piqued his interest in the area, and he was anxious to take another look around.<p>

It was a far cry from the Cote d'Azur, he thought with a silent smirk, having parked outside a greasy spoon called Kelly's and set out on foot. But perhaps it had potential. He was good at creating potential, and it had been a while since he'd had the chance to do so. Monte Carlo didn't have much room for improvement.

The diner was doing what it was meant to: efficiently feeding an early-lunch crowd of dockworkers, nurses whose GH shifts had just ended, moms with cranky, nap-ready toddlers, and teenagers cutting class. Not his forte. He moved on.

A few blocks farther on, he stopped into what could only be described as a dive bar. Jake's. Pool tables. Dart boards. A jukebox and karaoke machine. More longshoremen, ignoring all of the former as they hunched over the bar drinking mass-produced American beers served cold enough to numb one's tongue to the fact that the swill had no taste. He chatted amiably with the proprietor, a good-natured ruffian named Coleman, while nursing a glass of the best whiskey the man carried-a bargain-brand spirit that didn't really deserve to be on the top shelf anywhere. No competition here, though he didn't begrudge the place. He, and his father before him, had sat in enough public rooms like it. Working stiffs needed their sustenance where they could afford it.

Having set off again, he soon found himself in the warehouse district. He got the feeling this place had seen better days. There didn't seem to be nearly enough vans and forklifts hauling crates back and forth between here and the docks. The greatest amount of traffic was concentrated in a corner that smelled strongly of coffee. There was a huge, well-manned warehouse there, with a motorcycle repair shop beside it. Outside huddled a small group of oddly unoccupied men: hired muscle in a black leather jacket, less obvious muscle-turning-toward-fat who answered to Max, a sullen blond boy preoccupied with one of the bikes, and a swarthy bloke in a black suit. The last stared malevolently in Duke's direction. Unconcerned, Duke turned away, toward the other side of the wharf.

This was the most desolate spot yet. Behind a chain-link fence stood the crumbling remains of a warehouse that had obviously burnt to the ground. With the fire no more than a distant memory, the lot had become a weed-strewn dumping ground full of rubbish-old tires, discarded appliances, and dirt that sparkled like diamonds thanks to thousands of shards of broken glass. The sight filled Duke with a despair that was completely out of proportion to any rational response to urban decay. Feeling an urgent, overriding need to see Anna, he strode briskly away from the ruin, heading off down a side street to circle back around to his car, rather than retracing his steps the way he had come.

Across the pier, Sonny Corinthos watched him go. "See, now why's he hangin' around down here? Especially today, when we've got a shipment comin' in? You think that's a coincidence? I'm tellin' you, Jason, this guy is bad news."

"Looks harmless to me, boss," Max offered doubtfully. He'd started to realize that maybe Mr. Corinthos tended toward paranoia. There'd been no word on the street about this mystery man, and no news was generally good news.

"Did I ask you?" Sonny snapped. "What happened?" he demanded of his triggerman. "I asked you to care take of this. Since when do you let me down? I count on you, man. I count on you."

"Sonny. They're Robin's parents." Robin Scorpio was the closest thing Jason had to a conscience, and he knew the same was true for Sonny. She was the last person in the world he would ever intend to hurt, though that didn't mean she'd never get caught in the crossfire. The road to Hell wasn't unpaved, after all.

"He's snoopin' around my business," Sonny insisted. "This guy is a threat. He's taken down guys in my position before. What makes you think he's not gonna do it again? We gotta make a preemptive strike."

"Dad, if Jason says he'll do something, he'll do it. You know that," interrupted Michael, always ready to stick up for his idol.

"Alright, Sonny. Alright." Jason was not about to tell his blood brother about his encounter with Anna. That would only make things worse. And, frankly, Robin's mother was one of the few things that scared him a little. She was too reactionary, too unpredictable. Coleman had told him about the time she'd taken down two wanna-be's in Jake's-Coleman had thought it was hysterical, and claimed one of the guys now had a lot of extra room in the left leg of his boxer shorts. "I told you I'd handle it," Jason assured Sonny. "But you gotta let me do it my way. Trust me on this."

Jason was about the only person Sonny did trust. Sonny backed down. "Yeah. Yeah, I trust you. You know that. Just get it done."

Several blocks away, Duke's momentary panic had mellowed into a general feeling of déjà vu. The warehouses were behind him now, and he slowed his pace, his footsteps on the wooden planks echoing off the walls of the three- and four-story buildings in the run-down retail district. Everything here seemed very familiar.

Behind a trash Dumpster, on the heavy steel door that was the delivery entrance to one of the buildings, he noticed a sign, the paint heavily faded and chipped. He could just make out the art deco lettering: DUKE'S Place. And in smaller type: No Loitering.

So this had been his club, he realized. Where he'd worked, where he'd lived, where he'd loved the remarkable young Anna Devane. No loitering, indeed, he thought, with a crooked smile. He redoubled his steps toward the car to head back to the hotel and meet up with Anna.

* * *

><p>In the sitting room of the suite, Anna had flipped open an aluminum Halliburton attaché to reveal a PC with a secure operating system. She booted up, typed in her ID code and a lengthy series of passwords, and pressed each of her fingers, in turn, against the fingerprint scanner. Her identity verified, she was able to access the agency's network drives. She typed in an information request: Faison, Cesar.<p>

The monitor went blank except for two flashing words: REQUEST DENIED.

"Damn." This had never happened to her before. "Okay, then," she muttered. "Try P.K. Sinclair." As soon as she hit the Escape key in an attempt to refresh the screen, the flashing REQUEST DENIED changed to ACCESS DENIED. The PC then logged itself off.

"Great. Just great," Anna griped, grabbing her cell phone and flipping it open. She dialed an international number and a few moments later rattled off, "7022A53D. I've had a network information request denied. And then access denied. I have top clearance…. Cesar Faison. The file has been locked due to the subject's death? Really. No. No. Thank you."

The agency thought its top operatives were idiots, apparently, she realized. If Faison were dead, why was it necessary to deny her access? She was more certain than ever that he was out there. More determined than ever to find him. She needed another way.

She flipped the phone shut in frustration and sat, deep in concentration. Moments later, the phone rang. "Yes?" she answered it. "Robin!" she said warmly. "Hullo, darling…. Just trying to work out a puzzle…. You know, perhaps you can help. D'you know someone who's good with computers?... You do?... Damien who?... Spell that?… 122 Harbor View Drive. Got it. Right…. What's that? We'd love to have dinner. When? Yes, we'll see you then. Kisses to Emma. Bye, darling."

She dashed from the suite and made her way to the address Robin had given her. After ringing the apartment buzzer and asking for Mr. Spinelli, about a business matter, she was buzzed in and took the elevator up to penthouse two, thinking that these IT types certainly did very well for themselves. Her knock at the door was answered by a bug-eyed young man in rumpled clothing. " Hello, Mr. Damien Spinelli?" she greeted him. "I'm Anna Devane. Dr. Robin Scorpio gave me your name. I'm her mother."

"The Jackal is most honored to meet the Mistress of Secrecy," the boy stammered, taking her hand and pumping it furiously.

"Who? Me?" Anna raised her other hand, still holding the attaché case, to her own chest and glanced around in confusion as if looking for whomever he was referring to. Realizing he was indeed addressing her, she laughed, "Oh. Well. Thank you. I think. Um, I was hoping you could help me with a little computer problem. Robin said you provide, um, help desk services?"

"Oh, yes. Yes. Please come in. This is my partner in McCall & Spinelli Private Investigations, Ms. Samantha McCall."

"Hi," came the wary greeting from a young brunette dressed in black.

"Pleased to meet you," Anna nodded. Looking from one of the so-called P.I.s to the other, she offered, "Um, as I'm guessing you know, I work for an agency that deals in intelligence information, and I'm having some trouble with information retrieval."

"You want him to hack your agency's servers?" Sam cut to the chase.

"Well, yes," Anna smiled. The girl was quick, if sullen, she noted.

"Um, thanks, we appreciate the vote of confidence. But no way," Sam declined.

"But…but…but…the challenge! And the remuneration!" Spinelli argued. "You'll pay us, right?" he asked Anna.

"Yes. I'll pay you. Very well," Anna confirmed. "I know you'd be taking a risk. It's one that's worth quite a lot, to me."

"Absolutely not, Spinelli," Sam repeated. "Haven't you had enough trouble, with Rayner, and the FBI?"

"The FBI…" Anna muttered dismissively under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Perhaps there's another way," she offered after a moment. "Perhaps you could help me…follow the money. The information I need, it's about a man who's presumed to be dead. I believe he's alive. And if he's alive, he needs something to live on."

"That could work," Sam grudgingly agreed, with the slightest hint of admiration.

"Yes, yes! It will work!" Spinelli said, excited. "Reveal to me all that I need to know, Oh Covert One." He interlaced his fingers, turned his palms out with his arms extended in front of him, and cracked this knuckles, then flipped open the laptop sitting on the coffee table.

Before long, the three of them, sitting on the sofa, had hacked all the networks necessary to confirm that the publisher of the series of Davnee adventure novels was still paying royalties to a literary agency, who in turn was still paying a percentage to the estate of author P.K. Sinclair. That percentage was being deposited in a Swiss bank account, from which regular withdrawals were made.

"Well, dead men don't pay bills," Sam pointed out again.

"No," Anna agreed. "And Cesar was never the charitable type. The money's not going to trusts or endowments. Someone's spending it. _He's_ spending it. Now we just have to discover on what, and where."

Just then, Jason Morgan entered the apartment, and stopped short. "Anna," he said, his cold blue eyes blinking rapidly, repeatedly, in discomfiture.

"Jason," Anna said, rising from the sofa. "You're not following me again?"

"What? No. No, I live here. I do need to talk to you, though."

"About?"

"It's Sonny. He wants Duke Lavery gone. He knows about the Sister Island gang, and the Jeromes, and he's defending his territory. He wants me to take Duke out. I'm not gonna do that, right now. Because of Robin. But I told him I'd handle it. So I'm telling you, I'm warning you: You gotta get Duke out of town. The two of you, you have to leave Port Charles. Now."

Anna was loath to run away from anything or anyone. But for Duke, she knew, she would do it. She'd made that mistake once before, not running while they'd had the chance. It had been a fatal error-one that she would never make again.


	8. Part 7: Time and Again

Time and Again

Anna stalked nervously, carefully, along a darkened cherry-wainscoted hallway. She wasn't sure where she was going, and she knew she had to be on guard. Suddenly, she stopped, inhaled deeply, and shivered. She turned toward a door that was slightly ajar and saw smoke wafting through the opening.

She approached the door, hesitated, and then took the knob in her hand and slowly swung the heavy door open with a creak. She found herself stepping into a library dimly illuminated only by a reading lamp and the glow of a lit fireplace. Between her and the fire was a formal davenport and, at a right angle to that, a leather club chair with its back to her. To the other side of the chair was a side table with the single lamp-and an ashtray holding the smoldering butt of a cigarillo.

"What kept you, Anna?" The voice came from the chair.

"Faison." Anna's voice was a whisper. She moved slowly toward the chair, crossing between it and the couch, to face the man who'd been the cause of so much pain.

"I knew I would see you again, eventually," Faison said nonchalantly. "You couldn't stay away, forever."

"You…" Anna hissed through clenched teeth. "I knew you weren't dead. I _knew_ it."

"Because we have a connection, you and I. A meeting of the minds, you might say."

"No. We don't. We have no such thing. Your mind, it's sick…."

"Ah, to the contrary. It's the only thing about me that's strong, anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at me, Anna."

It occurred to her that she'd been so intent on that voice, that face, that she'd noticed nothing else. All of her carefully trained powers of observation had left her. At Faison's command, she was able to focus, and truly see him-see him gliding toward her. Faison had a lap rug thrown over his knees and, she realized, the club chair in which he was ensconced was actually a high-backed calfskin wheelchair. She took a step backward as he came closer. The chair seemed to move of its own volition. Cesar himself was completely immobile.

Seeing the recognition on her face, he continued, "Your darling Robert, he did this."

"No…." Anna was wild-eyed with confusion. None of this made any sense. "It doesn't matter!"

"No, it doesn't. Because you love me. Admit it, Anna. It's why you've come, at last." He was still advancing on her.

"No! It's not true. I'll never love you!" Anna's knees buckled against the couch and she plummeted onto it, ending up face to face with Faison, who was now nearly on top of her. Panic-stricken, she grabbed a pillow from the cushion next to her and pressed it tightly over his face. She held it there with all of her strength, smothering, smothering, smothering….

After what seemed like forever, she let the pillow fall-and screamed. The lifeless face before her was Duke's.

Anna woke with a start to find Duke turning onto his side to face her in the bed. He murmured her name with sleepy concern. A hot Mediterranean sun was streaming through floor-length white curtains that billowed in the breeze at the open balcony doors. They were both safe, in his bed in his Monaco bungalow, she realized. "Bad dream?" Duke whispered into her hair, kissing her temple and gathering her to his chest.

"Yes. Just a dream." She was still shaken. It had seemed so real. Why would she dream that? "I need some air," she said abruptly, stroking his face but extricating herself from his arms. She left the bed, pulling an ivory silk robe over her bare body as she went, and padded out onto the balcony, where she leaned with her forearms atop the rough stucco wall of the terrace and gazed out, down the hill, over the rooftops of the city, toward the twinkling harbor far below.

After a few moments, Duke appeared in the doorway behind her. He paused, watching the sea breeze stir the silk around the curves of her body and play in her hair. Then he moved to stand close against her back, placing a hand on her shoulder and another at her waist. "I have something that, perhaps-well, I hope it might make you feel better," he told her, looking at her troubled profile as she stared out to sea. "I've been waiting for the right moment. I don't want to wait anymore." His right hand left her waist and reached into the pocket of his midnight blue lounge pants. When it emerged and wrapped around in front of her, she saw a glinting at the ends of his gathered fingertips. He was holding a ring: a huge emerald-cut smoky brown cairngorm in an antique silver setting.

"Marry me, Anna Devane." He softly kissed the crown of her head.

"Ohhh, Duke. I would love to." Duke was puzzled by the wistfulness of her voice. "I don't know if I can."

Coming to Monte Carlo had been a reality check, though it had not started out that way. After the altercation with Jason Morgan, she'd seized on the idea as the perfect opportunity to get Duke out of Port Charles. They had kept their dinner date with Robin, Patrick, and Emma, explaining over Chinese takeout that Duke was going to show her the world he'd inhabited in his life as Daniel Lund. Robin had been happy for them, and almost envious, saying, "Wow. That sounds really romantic." Two young doctors with a small child did not have much time for spontaneous jet-setting.

Their arrival quickly provided romantic fantasy in stark contrast with unvarnished truths. Anna had finally fully grasped that Duke had a whole life here, a full life, a life he'd worked long and hard to build. When he'd brought her to the casino, the first place they'd gone had been the security office, to meet his dear friend Louis. Duke had swept into the office calling out, "Louis. Mon amie…."

The tall, thin man, with a neat silver mustache and a crescent of close-cropped gray hair around a balding pate, had turned from the banks of closed circuit video screens, beaming. "Daniel! Bienvenu de retour. You are well?"

Duke had clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder and pulled him into a bear hug. They'd kissed the air to each side of one another's cheeks.

"Never better," Duke replied. "I feel wonderful. And I've brought someone very wonderful to meet you. Louis Renault, allow me to present Miss Anna Devane."

Louis had looked at Anna, and she had registered suspicion in his eyes. He remembered her, she'd known, from the first time they met, when she'd been traveling with Eli. She'd given an almost imperceptible shake of her head, thinking, _Please, no_, and her eyes had met his, silently pleading with him to keep their earlier acquaintance a secret.

Louis's suspicions had gone deeper than she knew. He had questioned her sister, Alex, while Daniel had lain unconscious in the infirmary. He'd doubted the doctor's answer that she was the twin sister of Eli Love's coquette; it had seemed too incredible a coincidence to be true. At this latest meeting, he'd quickly glanced at Daniel, seen the pride and adoration on his face, and decided not to mar his friend's obvious joy. For now.

He'd taken the hand that Anna had extended in greeting, bent over, and kissed the back of it. "Enchanté, mademoiselle," he'd said as he rose, looking at her and lifting his eyebrows to communicate the temporary pardon he'd chosen to grant her.

She'd given him a dazzling smile of gratitude. It had been an immense relief to learn that Duke had had such a loyal, protective friend all these years.

The rest of the evening had been like a fairy tale. Duke had taken her to the shops and chosen for her an exquisite Marchesa evening gown. She'd emerged from the fitting room to find him in black-tie Armani, waiting to whisk her off to the storied casino, his casino, the Monte Carlo. It had taken her breath away to watch him there. He'd moved through the room with complete ease and confidence, and the pit boss, floormen, dealers, hostesses, and even cocktail waitresses had all greeted him with genuine smiles, truly pleased at the return of their Monsieur Lund. He was a man at the height of his powers, master of all he surveyed, and Anna had been intoxicated by him.

He'd quickly and efficiently confirmed that his kingdom was running smoothly, then he had procured a bottle of Grand Siecle from the bar and led Anna out into the balmy Riviera night. They'd companionably shared the champagne on the white-sand beach before making their way to the yacht slip where Duke docked the Annette.

Mademoiselle Devane had been astonished at the painted script on the vessel's bow.

"I chose her for her name. Now I know why," Duke had mused tipsily.

The world entire-the winking of the starlit sky, the kiss of the sultry air, the rhythmic rocking of the sea-had seemed a paradise made solely for the two of them, as they'd made love on the deck of the boat's cabin, the haute couture wrinkling in a forgotten heap.

Now, standing in the comfortable home Duke had made for himself, where he'd found such peace, refinement, and safety, Anna felt that, however much she might want to, she should not entangle him in her life of chaos and danger. The reason for her nightmare was clear in the light of day now.

Duke was stunned by her circumspection. "What do you mean?" he laughed with nervous confusion, remembering, just as Anna did, the rarified happiness they'd shared the night before. "Of course you can marry me. You have done. We were married. We should be again."

Suddenly, his arms were no longer around her-they dropped to his sides, his hand formed a tight fist around the ring, which cut painfully into his palm. He took a step back, away from her. "Is this because of Robert?" he asked with cold accusation.

Anna quickly turned to face him. "Oh, no! No. It's because of _me_!" She stepped close to him again and touched him, grasping the strong, tensed muscles of his shoulders and then sliding her hands down his chest to his bare hips. "This isn't my world, Duke. It's not my life." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I live alone, in a quiet flat, and at a moment's notice I could be god-knows-where, risking what little I have for whatever cause the agency deems fit. I can't be a wife. I can barely be a woman. And I can't ask you to give up all this…" she looked wildly around her, throwing her arms wide, toward the bright cerulean sky, the shimmering ocean, the perfectly appointed apartment… "for what's left."

"All of this? All of this means nothing, Anna. I'd give it up for you, without a second thought."

"But that's just it. I don't _want_ you to. You shouldn't have to do that."

"Why not? Because _you_ won't? You say you have so little, Anna-why not let it go?"

Anna was crying now, and her tears washed away his affront and anger. He reached out to smooth her pillow-mussed, breeze-blown hair. "We'll build a new life. Together. You and I." He took her face in his hands and kissed her. " Say, 'Yes,'" he whispered, his face mere inches from hers.

Her eyes searched his face as she struggled with herself. She loved him so much, and yet it seemed that any answer she gave could hurt him. Keeping him safe, she thought, recalling her horrifying dream and her encounters with Jason Morgan, meant leaving him. He'd done the same for her, once, and it had nearly destroyed her. She didn't think she was strong enough to survive losing him again, for any reason, in any circumstances.

She could not make a choice that could decide both of their fates. "I…need time," she equivocated.

"Time," Duke echoed. "I can give you that. I think I've told you before: I'm not going anywhere."

They fell against each other and against the veranda wall and into the depths of a timeless kiss.


	9. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 1

**Angst in the Afternoon**

Anna sat at the roulette table absent-mindedly swirling the remainder of her pinot grigio in its glass. She could not untangle the problem of how to find Faison. She'd uncovered another alibi, Herr Krieg, but it had been a dead end. She was trying to decide whether a trip to Switzerland would be worth the effort. Or to Denmark. Or to his former vineyard in the south of France. And what excuse could she give Duke for the excursion? She didn't want to involve him….

_Speaking of which, where was Duke?_ she thought. They'd agreed to meet at 7 o'clock; she looked at her watch-that was a half hour ago….

Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and smiled.

"Hello, Anna," came a terrifyingly familiar voice from behind her. "You're looking lovely, as ever."

She could stop her search for Faison, Anna realized. He'd found her first. But, oh god, she thought, where was Duke?

In the security office, Duke was growing increasingly cross with his friend Louis. For three-quarters of an hour now, the man had detained him with one after another inconsequential problem. _What the hell was the matter with him this evening?_ Duke thought impatiently. _Renault could deal perfectly well with these things on his own._ "Louis," he grumbled, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair and heading toward the door, "I have to go. Anna's waiting. She'll be wondering where I am. We'll discuss this tomorrow, okay?"

"Daniel, wait," his friend stalled. "There's one more thing you should see."

"What is it?" Duke snapped.

"Here," Louis gestured toward one of the video monitors. "Look."

Duke saw a black-and-white image of a woman and a man in an intimate embrace, an army of stagehands moving to and fro around them. "Dr. Marick and the musician," he observed, annoyed. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Is it?" Louis asked coldly.

"What do you mean, man? Of course it is. I saw them before. Why have you even kept these tapes?"

"It _is_ Eli Love. Are you certain about the woman?"

"We both met her. When I fell ill." Duke rubbed his hand over his face in remembered pain and current frustration. "She's Anna's sister."

"No, mon amie," Louis answered ironically. "That woman is not Alexandra Marick. She is _your_ woman. Anna Devane." Aiming a remote control at the screen, he enlarged the image, bringing the couple into closeup.

The jealousy that Duke felt every time he thought of Anna with Scorpio reared up again. "That's a lie," he spat. "A damned lie."

"Why would I lie to you, mon amie? Am I not your friend? For many years, have I not been your friend?"

"I'll ask Anna. She's waiting for me in the casino. Right now, we'll ask her. Come on."

"Anna _is_ in the casino," Louis granted, pointing the remote at the largest wide-screen video monitor and pushing another button. "See?"

Instantly, Anna's face was displayed, close up and larger than life. She looked angry, Duke thought-no, she looked frightened. No….

Louis pressed another button, the camera pulled back, and Anna was no longer alone in the frame. A man was with her-and Duke's jealously of the rock star and anger at Louis were supplanted by the same fear and rage that he saw on her face. _Faison_, he seethed. "My god," he said, dashing to the office door. "Louis, we have to go. Come on, man!"

"Daniel," Louis commanded. "Stop."

Duke turned to see his friend aiming a pistol at him. "Louis…" he said in confused, barely suppressed panic.


	10. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch2

"Faison." Anna's voice was icy, completely devoid of the passion that had led Duke to fall in love with her and Faison to become obsessed by her.

"Surprised, Anna?"

"Not really. I've been more or less expecting you ever since I came out of that coma you put me in. I'm wondering what took you so long, really."

"Poor Anna. Did you think I'd lost interest?" Faison taunted.

"I should be so lucky."

"Ah, but I nearly did. You don't believe me? I watched you, still, you know. But…I no longer craved what I saw. The Anna Devane who emerged from her coma has been reckless. She's sold herself cheap, don't you think? To the agency. And to lovers. Not at all like the woman I knew. Where is that precision, Anna?" He ran his fingertips along her jaw line, from her ear to her chin, the embers at the tip of his cigarillo perilously close to her skin.

"Please don't touch me." Her voice was quiet and clipped, constrained into its lowest register. She suddenly felt confined, ineffectual.

"Do you remember…restraint?... Control?..."

"Not here, Faison," she warned.

"That's right: _He's_ here, isn't he? Your beloved Duke," Faison sneered with undisguised envy. "You needn't worry. He won't be interrupting us."

Anna's cool façade cracked. "What have you done to him? If you hurt him again, so help me…"

"That's up to you, Anna. You...come with me…now…and I promise you, he will be safe. Refuse me and…well, I make no guarantee…."

She hesitated, mind whirling. He could be making empty threats, Anna thought. But that would be very unlike Faison. And in any case, it was not a risk she was prepared to take. She had to keep Faison far away from Duke, whatever it took. She pressed her lips together tightly. "Let's go," she said, taking his elbow and allowing him to lead her out of the Monte Carlo.

"They're leaving," Duke said in a panic, watching the retreating forms of Anna and Faison on the monitor behind Renault.

"And we're letting them go."

"Louis, please…"

"You fool. She's just a woman. All this trouble for a woman. I don't understand you or him."

"Then why are you helping him?"

Louis laughed. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. Money, mon amie. Is there ever any other reason? So much money, Monsieur Faison was willing to pay, just for reports on you. And once I'd told him that she'd shown up-Jackpot."

"He'll kill her," Duke said hopelessly.

"No. I think it's far more likely that I'll kill you."


	11. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 3

"Will you at least tell me where we're going?" Anna asked as Faison hurried her through the crowds of oblivious tourists thronging the streets of Monte Carlo.

"Now, what would be the fun in that? You like a good mystery, don't you? A little intrigue? Besides, I'm disappointed you even need to ask."

In another moment, Anna understood what he was getting at. They were approaching the harbor. Duke's boat. Of course. Where else?

He hustled Anna into the vessel, cast off its moorings, started the outboard motor, and steered them out into the harbor.

"Are you ready to tell me what it is you want?" Anna demanded. "Because I know what I want."

"And what is that, my lovely Anna?"

"I want you dead."

"'Tsk. Such a cruel woman. Sometimes I wonder why I've wanted you so." He paused to pull a cigarette case and lighter from his pocket, removed and lit a cigarillo, and took a long drag. "Because that's the answer to your question, you know: I want _you_." He exhaled, blowing smoke directly toward Anna's face. The plume wreathed around her head, clouding her vision and making her cough. Her eyes glazed, and she suddenly felt dizzy, light-headed, out of focus. "Lavery has a…transformative effect on you, d'you know that? I was beginning to think the Anna Devane I knew was lost forever. And yet here she is, before me, that same spark in her eyes." He stepped closer to her and looked into her dilated pupils, which had become strangely unblinking despite the smoke swirling around them. "Like a moth to a flame, I feel," he continued hypnotically, in a trance-like state himself. "Will you burn me again, Anna? Like all those times before? Like the first time. You remember, Anna? How you play along-and then pull away?"

Anna's mind, as addled as Faison's was by the hallucinatory vapors, flashed back to the beginning, a lifetime ago now. She'd spent more than 30 years suppressing these thoughts-running from them….

_[I]She'd been so very young: barely 13. And so very jealous of her 18-year-old sister, Lindsay, who had been everything their father expected of his daughters-everything Anna was not. Serious, bookish, intellectual Lindsay took after their parents and effortlessly earned their approval. Whereas Thomas Devane hadn't understood his younger daughter and her penchant for finding trouble-and his wife had been detached, depressed, unreachable, unable to nurture a living daughter while mourning her twin who'd been lost. Compared with a perfect, obedient sister and a sainted dead one, Anna couldn't measure up. And so she'd acted out, getting herself ejected from Girl Guides for refusing to make up the bunk beds and for throwing cherry bombs into the campfires. School had seemed a prison where she was expected to sit still while struggling with maths and reading the dry, drawing room manners of Jane Austen novels. Who could do that when there was a whole, real world out there offering action and adventure and escape from the proper, pent-up life of the Devane family?_

_All that had changed during a summer holiday in Canada. To Anna's annoyance, her parents had secured the services of one Nanny MacTavish to supervise her. And to her further irritation, her sister was to enjoy the company of Nanny's worldly, exotic son, Cesar. The young man was intriguing enough to pull even dull Lindsay's nose out of her books and turn her head._

_Anna had been incensed at the injustice: Lindsay did not deserve all of their mum and dad's affection and now the attentions of a fascinating beau too. Anna had set her sights on the mysterious Cesar._

_Could he get wine for her? she'd asked. Cigarettes? Lindsay would never touch either, Anna knew, and Cesar had a taste for both. Could he get a car-a fast one? They could steal one, she'd suggested, and go for a joyride through the city. In spite of himself-in spite of the carnal afternoons he'd already stolen with Lindsay-Faison found himself quite taken with the younger sister's precocious daring._

_And then, just when Anna had thought she'd won, just when it seemed Cesar had become bored with know-it-all Lindsay, it had all blown up. Lindsay had caught Anna and Faison in a tete a tete, sharing one of the jugs of cheap table wine. Anna's moment of triumph was brief-heart-broken Lindsay had told their father of the dangerous liaison. Lindsay had then gone back to England early, and then on to her first year at Kings' College, Cambridge. Anna had been packed off to boarding school. And Cesar had disappeared to Denmark, where his father lived. [/I]_

"_You_ pulled away," Anna accused now, as the Annette bobbed violently in the waves and wind of a rising spring storm. "You went away to Denmark-and the DVX."

"How dare you?" Faison spat at her. "Did I forget you? Do you forget? What about the letters I sent, that you never bothered to answer? What about the orchids? The money? You have no idea what I've done for you."

"I'd come to my senses!" The truth, Anna knew, was that without her rival to lord him over, Cesar had held little attraction for her. Not until she'd needed him-not until she'd had no one else. "You'd been with Lindsay. I think she actually loved you, you know," she recalled regretfully. "She wouldn't speak to me. I never spoke to her again. And then she died…." Tears ran silently down Anna's cheeks, carrying a guilt she'd never shown to anyone.

"Ah, yes," Faison smiled menacingly. "Leukemia, was it? Is that what they said? Is that what they told you? Is that what her son thinks?"

"Aidan? What do you know about him? I didn't know about him myself…. But, yes, he knows about Lindsay."

"I'm sure he believes he does. Tell me: Does he know who his father is?"

Anna felt ill, with smoke choking her lungs, the Annette heaving over swells, and bile rising in her throat. "Not you?" She ran to the side of the boat and retched into the churning waves.

Faison calmly followed her, flicked the sputtering butt of the cigarillo over her head into the water, and none-too-gently raked her hair back, away from her face. "You learned betrayal early on, Anna. Don't play the innocent with me. Let's not pretend you never suspected."

"I didn't… No… I never…" Anna sobbed over the rail of the boat.

"How could so many tragedies be coincidence? First your sister…. Then mummy and daddy-whoever would want to hurt them? Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, weren't they, when that car bomb detonated? Collateral damage, no? And poor little Anna, left behind, with no one but her old friend Faison to turn to. You never should have left the DVX, Anna. We took care of our own. We can take care of anyone. Do you see that now?"

"Where has he taken her?" Duke demanded quietly. "Where have they gone? Whatever he's paying you, Louis, I'll double it," he bargained. "You know I can."

Louis chuckled. "Monsieur Faison is not a man one double-crosses, Daniel. My orders are to hold you here. But…I could, perhaps, show you where they've gone.… Monsieur Faison has…an odd sense of humor.…"

Still holding the gun on Duke, he pointed the remote over his shoulder, at the TVs behind him, and pressed a button. A trinity of the screens switched to a shot of the Annette, bobbing in her boat slip beneath a moonlit sky. Another three flicked, and Duke saw Anna and himself onboard, draining the last of the champagne from a pair of fluted glasses. A third threesome revealed Anna, her hand moving aside the neck of the Marchesa to reveal the milky-white flesh of her bare shoulder, and Duke watched himself watching her, as if in a dream. Another triptych captured them in a kiss, their hands leading zippers on a deliberate descent. The remaining small screens suddenly exposed the two of them in a most intimate embrace-his face hidden in the curve of her neck as his mouth traversed her flesh, her thighs wrapped around his hips, his hand between her naked shoulder blades, clutching her hair and unknowingly baring her rapturous face to the invading camera lens.

Finally, in the biggest, center screen, the view of the abandoned roulette table switched to a shot of Anna, and Faison, on the Annette. They were arguing, Duke could see. And that was suddenly all he could see: He was blind to the pistol in Louis's hand, oblivious to everything but the need to get to Anna. With a roar, he flung himself toward Renault, who fired the gun-Duke barely felt the shot graze his arm in the instant before he hit the traitor's body. The two men fell into the bank of video screens with a deafening crash, the impact knocking the gun from Louis's grasp. Duke punched him in the solar plexus, once, twice, a third time. Louis crumpled forward but pushed back against the assault, trying to reach the gun and recover it. They grappled, trading punches, until Duke threw Louis back into the televisions again, with another great smash and a tinkling of glass-screens cracked and others fell to the floor in a loud, sparking cacophony.

Duke punched Louis's jaw, then reached beyond his face and grasped a jagged fragment of the broken glass and tore it free. Senseless of the gash opening up in his flesh, the blood pouring from his palm, he plunged the glass shard into Renault's eye socket, bursting the eyeball and driving the splinter deep into the man's brain. The body dropped instantly, heavily, vacantly to the floor.

Duke stumbled backward, breathless, winded, and looked around wildly. He spotted the gun, fell to his knees scrambling for it and, grabbing it in his wounded, bloodied hand, ran from the room, in the direction of the Annette.


	12. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 4

"Why tell me this now?" Anna sobbed, having sunk to her knees on the starboard side of the Annette. "If it's true, why now? Why never before?"

"First rule of coercion, Anna: Never use a more powerful motivator than you need. You were more easily swayed, before. When you came to me-after your parents, after Lindsay-well, that was almost too easy. I was all you had left, wasn't I? You needn't have known that I'd planned it that way." Faison lit another of his slender opium-laced cigars. He stroked Anna's hair again, the smoke stinging her tear-reddened eyes. "You needed me, and you needed the DVX. And you wanted…well, one of us." He bit off the words bitterly, and then curled his sneering lips around the cigar and drew the drug deep into his lungs. "How will your darling Duke take the news, do you think? When he learns that you've betrayed every loyalty you've ever owed? To Lindsay and your parents. To me, and to the DVX. Even to Scorpio. And now to him. He knows you're here with me, you know."

"He knows I love him," Anna countered.

"Does he? Even though you wouldn't accept his marriage proposal?" He registered the shock on Anna's face at his knowing even that. "I have eyes everywhere, Anna. Duke knows that by now. But…does he have any idea, do you think, of how dangerous it is to love Anna Devane?… He is loyal, your Lavery," Faison observed with bemusement. "Almost to a fault. It's touching, really. And incredibly naïve. How ironic that he'd pledge such devotion to one so faithless as you."

"What do you want me to do?" Anna was broken, resigned. _[I]He'd won[/I],_ she thought.

"Come away with me. Stay with me, and Lavery gets to go on with his life. He gets to go on living. A good bargain, no?"

Anna tried to fight through the chemical and emotional confusion that gripped her mind, to find another way out. She was unarmed, having gone to the casino planning only for a romantic dinner with Duke. There was nothing on the Annette that looked like an effective weapon. She could try to overpower Cesar and throw him overboard. But she felt ill, drained, and weak, and uncertain she could actually win a fight with him-and besides, she did not trust the sea to finish Faison. She wanted to see him dead, with her own eyes-to see the life gone out of him and to know, for certain, that he would never come back to haunt her.

And then there was Duke-if Faison were telling the truth, and he had it in his power to hurt Duke, she could not kill Faison without knowing that Duke was safe.

What to do? She looked back toward shore, and realized that in the squall the boat had drifted landward. "Okay," she said slowly. "You've won, Cesar. I'll do as you want. But not in D-…not in his boat." She could not bring herself to say his name; it was too painful. "He deserves better than that. Better than me, than what I've done, than what I've become. Take me back. Then, you and I, we'll get a car. A fast one."

She'd chosen her words well, she realized gratefully, as she saw the gleam of lust and conquest in Faison's eyes, and she knew he was remembering, just as she did [cue [URL= .com/watch?v=uCkWTpjLvWU] "Gold, Guns, Girls"[/URL] by Metric:

_[I]Not only the first time, in Canada, but here, in Monaco, before the WSB, before Robert…flying along the precipitous turns at the edge of the cliffs that plunged into the sea…Faison's fingers, white-knuckled, tearing a run into her stocking just above her knee as she pushed the clutch to the floor and threw the stick shift into fifth gear.… She'd laughed, she'd felt invincible, as she'd glanced quickly at him through her peripheral vision and registered his nervous looks out of the convertible toward the sheer drop to the water far below. The adrenaline-fueled rush of another mission completed, another safe getaway made…._

_Finally bringing the car to a squealing stop in the hidden, __Bougainvillea-shrouded__ driveway of a secluded safehouse many kilometers outside the city, she'd opened the car door and turned to climb out of the vehicle. She was stopped by Faison's hand clutching tightly at her upper arm. "Another job well done, Anna," he'd praised. "You've performed admirably, for one so young. Did you enjoy it?" _

_She'd turned to look at him and said, cautiously, "I did. It was fun."_

_"Such a plum assignment. Our more seasoned agents might be, well, resentful. And the other recruits, they might accuse me of favoritism. They might be right," he'd smirked. "Don't you think you should show me your appreciation, Anna?" He'd grabbed her other arm as well, and dragged her toward him, into his lap in the passenger seat, astonishing her with his wiry strength._

_Anna had found herself straddling the man the DVX had dubbed the Master Persuader, whom she had long known as the cocky, self-assured Cesar. As he'd kissed her, hard, bruising her mouth, and pushed her skirt up her thighs, she'd thought that he was right-she was indebted to him. He'd been there for her when she'd had no one else, she'd reasoned, as his hands and mouth slithered over her body, sinuously, seductively, possessively. She'd felt her body respond to his, in spite of herself, and he'd moaned her name and squeezed her bottom, pulling her against his groin. Her lost family may not have valued her, she thought, but Faison and the DVX did. That would be enough-it would have to be._

_Cesar had felt Anna begin to return his kiss, and he'd known she'd made her decision, the one he'd plotted long and hard and ruthlessly to bring about. He had grasped her wrists and guided her hands to his neck, and she'd watched frantic pleasure mount in his eyes as she pressed her thumbs against his throat and rocked her hips against him. She'd felt powerful, she'd felt desired and, she'd realized, she'd felt…completely empty, and lonelier than she'd ever been, while Faison had gasped in asphyxia-heightened orgasm. She'd had to remind herself to let go afterward. [/I]_

The Annette crashed violently against the dock, knocking Anna back into the present, where the storm now lashed the boat and its passengers with stinging rain, and Anna was nearly jolted facedown onto the deck. Faison was at her side, with yet another lit cigarette, ordering her, "Focus, Anna. We're here. Time to go." He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and grasped her wrist as well, letting ash fall onto her fingers.

From the dock, they were met with an ominous, low growl of rage: "Take your hands off her. Now."

[I]Duke![/I] Anna's mind was instantly sharp again, fully aware. Duke was here. She would not let Cesar hurt Duke.

Oh, but someone already had, she thought, as she looked at him in horror. His face was bruised, his lower lip was split and swollen, and both sleeves of his formerly crisp white shirt were drenched with blood, from his biceps down on the left and from wrist to elbow of his right arm.

"I expect Renault looks worse than you do," Faison said ironically. "I hope you've killed him? You will have saved me the trouble of punishing his incompetence."

Duke had stepped aboard the boat. "I said let her go," he repeated.

"As you wish," Faison conceded, before viciously pinching a nerve in the nape of Anna's neck. She gave a strangled cry and slumped to the deck as he released her.

"Anna!" Duke called, rushing toward her limp form and raising his mangled right hand to aim the late Renault's pistol at Faison.

"You're too late, you know," Faison mocked.

Duke knelt on the deck next to Anna. "Anna?" He stroked her rain-soaked hair with his good hand, streaking her forehead with the blood that had run down the length of his arm from his bullet wound. "I'm here…" he whispered to her, lowering his gun arm to his side in his preoccupation.

"She's here with me willingly," Faison continued.

"I don't believe you," Duke answered dismissively, without taking his eyes off Anna.

"No? She hasn't agreed to marry you, has she? Why is that, do you think?"

"She will. She-…We love each other." The tiniest flicker of doubt had stolen into his voice.

"Love," Faison scoffed. "You know nothing about her. She's told you nothing but lies. D'you know that? [I]_I[/I]_ know her. I know the [I]truth[/I]." The heel of his shoe came down on Duke's wounded hand, grinding it cruelly against the wooden floorboards of the deck. Duke cried out and jerked back reflexively, and Faison kicked away the gun, sending it skittering across the deck. With surprising speed, Faison followed and retrieved the weapon.

Anna began to come around, wincing and rubbing the back of her neck. She struggled to sit up, murmuring, "Duke?"

"It's alright, luv. I'm here," Duke reassured her.

"As am I,…love," Faison reminded Anna, aiming the gun at the two of them. "And now it's time that you and I were going. You promised, remember? Not that you're one to keep your promises…. But perhaps just this once. Unless you prefer to watch him die?"

"Anna, no. Don't," Duke argued, as Anna grasped the side of the boat and, with effort, pulled herself to her feet, trying to blink away the stars that still danced before her eyes. Duke clambered to his feet, too, holding his pained right hand protectively against his chest.

Anna didn't hesitate. She stepped away from Duke, toward Cesar, looking toward the former and saying, "I'm sorry." Faison came forward to meet her and wrapped his left arm around her waist, still holding the gun on Duke with his right.

"No," Duke protested.

"Let me go, Duke," Anna insisted.

"No!" Duke repeated vehemently, following her, advancing on Faison, who raised his right arm, jabbed his elbow with vicious accuracy into the pressure point where Duke's neck met his shoulder, and followed up with a wicked blow from the butt of the gun. Duke hit the deck, unconscious, wrenching a single anguished sob from Anna.

Faison held the gun to Anna's ribs and jerked her savagely toward the dock, dragging her off the Annette while muttering, "Come on." Reaching the walkway at the top of the quay, he concealed the gun beneath his jacket and hurried Anna toward a valet lane outside one of the five-star resorts. "Go," he ordered, shoving her toward the driver's seat of an idling convertible Maserati GranTurismo as the roof retracted to welcome the returning sun. Faison himself darted nimbly into the passenger seat, and the owner's infuriated Italian expletives were drowned out by the roar of the car's engine as Anna sped away from the hotel.

"It's for the best, you know," he consoled her disingenuously.

"Shut up, Cesar," Anna snapped. "Shut up, or so help me…." She looked pointedly out into the open air beyond the cliff's edge, and the car swerved sharply in that direction before correcting into the safety of the traffic lane. She almost wished he would defy her and give her the excuse to steer them both out into the ether-out into oblivion.


	13. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 5

Duke opened his eyes and saw [URL=.com/watch?v=AO_xnSIay1A]red raindrops[/URL] glistening against the cedar planks of the Annette's deck. [I][URL=.com/watch?v=VmB57cB-jQs]Red rain?[/URL][/I] he thought, as he became aware that his entire upper body, everything above the waist, hurt like hell. He nearly bit through his lip with the pain that shot through him as he pushed himself to a sitting position, where he realized that the crimson was the dilution of the storm waters by his own blood.

And then he realized everything else that had happened. He looked hopelessly around the boat, and saw Anna's abandoned Louis Vuitton clutch against the outside wall of the cabin. He staggered over to retrieve it and, clumsily, with his relatively uninjured left hand, opened it. He pulled out her passport, flipped it open, and stared longingly at her photo. "Anna. Where are you?" He reached in again and came out with her cell phone. He flipped that open and pushed a button. Then pushed another. He stared at the display screen, then closed his eyes and sighed in despair. There was nothing for it: Grimacing, he pushed the call button and waited for an answer. When it came, he hesitated just a moment, before saying, "Robert?... It's Duke…. I…need your help."

Scorpio had efficiently dealt with the local authorities, learning that they'd long been monitoring Renault. It was Lavery's good luck, Robert thought, that the dead man had been a real creep, using his position for his own voyeuristic and mercenary ends. There were dozens of videotapes not only of unsuspecting couplings in the Monte Carlo's hotel rooms but also of the card counters and other gambling cheats who'd paid Renault handsomely to turn a blind eye. Robert had removed from Duke's bungalow and boat the bugs and surveillance devices that Renault had planted at Faison's behest. The Société des Bains de Mer were thankful to be rid of the guy, Robert told Duke.

Duke took no comfort from that-it sickened him. He'd believed that Louis was a friend, he'd thought, looking regretfully around the security room that Robert had commandeered as his war room, where the broken glass had been swept away, the gore mopped up, and the destroyed monitoring screens replaced with the latest, 3-D models.

"So Anna was right," Robert admitted to Sean Donely. "Faison is alive."

"Her instincts always were dead-on," Sean reminded him. "How you doin', buddy?" Sean asked Duke, who flinched as Donely inadvertently gave what was meant to be a supportive fraternal squeeze to his long-lost friend's bullet-grazed arm.

"I've been better," Duke said grimly.

"Yeah, you've looked better, man," Sean commiserated, shaking his head at Duke's bruised face and heavily bandaged right hand. "Look, I know you're worried about Anna. We all are. But she can take care of herself, right? That's what I told Tiffany."

"How is she?" Duke asked with disinterested courtesy, thinking to himself that all these people from another time, all these forgotten names, were wasting his time while the only one he truly cared about-his Anna-was out there somewhere, with a madman.

"Tiffany? She's good. She's got her hands full with our teenage girl, Anna's namesake." He chuckled. "Anastasia-she's as beautiful as her mother, and twice as dramatic, if you can believe that. It was a relief to come do some espionage business, and get a little rest," he joked.

"Hm," Duke answered before wandering off to stare out a window in a funk. Sean looked at Robert and shrugged.

Robert turned to Alexandra Marick and drew her attention to the video playing on one of the screens. "So that's definitely not you?" he asked, indicating the woman canoodling with Eli Love.

"No, I've never met the man," Alex assured him.

"And you have an alibi?"

"Yes," she said, sliding on a pair of reading glasses to look at the date-and-time stamp on the screen. "I was at a medical symposium. In Port Charles, actually. Patrick Drake invited me, and I was happy to see him and Robin again. What have you told Robin, by the way?"

"Nothing. I don't want to alarm her until we know more."

Behind the bar at the Haunted Star, Ethan looked at the text message on his phone: "Did Dad tell u whr he wz going?"

"No," he texted back. "My mum went 2. Holiday?"

"K. Thx," came the response from the busy Dr. Scorpio, who had long since resigned herself to her parents' mysterious comings and goings.

Alex was put off by Scorpio's casual condescension toward his grown, fiercely intelligent daughter. She wondered at her sister's taste in men: Hayward and the oily bloke in the video and this one too? Not to mention the alleged psychopath with whom Anna had apparently run off. She glanced with curious concern toward the morose figure by the window-Mr. Lund or Lavery or whatever his name was. Was he another one of a type? There was no way of knowing from their brief acquaintance…. In any case, she thought, she knew just how to bring Mr. Scorpio down a peg.

"And how have you been, Robert?" Dr. Marick asked. "How have you been holding up? Anna had mentioned your illness," she said by way of calculated explanation.

Bulls-eye, she thought, watching Robert's jaw clench and one eye squint and twitch. This alpha male, she knew, did not like to be reminded of his weaknesses, his mortality.

"Ah, er, just fine, thanks," Robert grumbled in response.

His wife, who'd been standing by quietly but watching the proceedings intently with a sly, vulpine attitude, came to his rescue. "Robert's been very well, Dr. Marick. Haven't you, darling?" She squeezed Robert's hand. "But we appreciate your…concern," she said to Alex, not very appreciatively at all.

"Robert, Special Agent Devane is here," Sean pointed out, directing Robert's attention toward the door, through which Aidan Devane had just entered.

"Excuse me," Robert said to Alex, grateful for the interruption.

"Of course," Alex smiled insincerely. She wandered over toward the window, and Duke.

Duke, staring out toward the harbor, where the Annette still floated placidly, saw Alex's reflection appear suddenly in the glass. He startled and turned quickly to face her.

"How does that hand feel?" she asked gently.

Duke looked down at the bandaged limb in surprise, having forgotten the injury in spite of the pain that he'd refused to medicate. "Oh. Dr. Molineau says it should mend." He stared openly, disbelievingly, into Alex's face. "You look…just like her," he said in awe. She wore her hair differently, somehow, he thought, but otherwise.… He felt his heart pump harder in his chest-no wonder meeting this woman had changed everything.

"I know," Alex smiled kindly at him. "We joke that no one ever sees us together in the same place these days." She reached out and placed her hand upon his uninjured one.

The spell was broken. It was the sympathetic, dispassionate gesture of a physician, he thought, looking at her hand on his. Hers was not Anna's touch. No other woman had the power to move him the way Anna did. He looked up, over Alex's shoulder, at the monitors where the video of Anna and Eli Love was still playing on a continuous loop. "That wasn't you," he said dejectedly.

"No," she shook her head. "It may not have meant anything," she consoled. "The indulgence of a girlhood fantasy, maybe? She's been a lonely woman, I think."

Anna tried to sleep-tried to will herself into unconsciousness-on the lumpy, musty mattress in the chateau. Beneath her eyelids she just saw Duke, over and over again, physically and psychically beaten and battered. His plaintive "Anna, no," still echoed in her ears, superimposed over the live audio of Cesar stalking restlessly around the room. Cesar wouldn't sleep-he never slept. She'd had hopes that it would be easy: Just wait for him to slip into drug-induced obliviousness, then take possession of the gun, and blow away what remained of his crazed, addicted brain. Or hold one of the mouldering pillows over his nose and mouth, as in her nightmare. Or, most satisfying of all, use her bare hands to choke the life out of him, as she could have done-perhaps should have done-all those many years ago.

But he wouldn't sleep. He never slept. The drugs instead kept him impossibly awake, alert, manic. And paranoid. He had not let her out of his sight for an instant. He watched her incessantly, tirelessly. He watched her. He watched her. He watched her. He would watch her sleep, if she ever could.


	14. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 6

"Thanks for coming," Robert said to Aidan.

"No problem. I'm 'ere for Anna," Special Agent Devane replied in his thick London accent.

"Were you able to contact Frisco Jones?" Sean asked.

"No," Aidan shook his head. " 'E's deep underground. No one can get to 'im, not even for you folks an' Anna."

"Did you find anything at Anna's Earls Court flat?" Robert asked.

"It was clean. The agency does regular sweeps. If Faison had planted anyfing-bugs or anyfing else-they would've found it already."

"You're taking a risk," Robert warned. "The agency wouldn't like you helping us. They've burned her."

"INTERPOL is on the lookout for her and Faison, but they'll treat them as fugitives," Sean pointed out.

"I know," Aidan answered both of them.

"We'll show you what we've got so far," Robert offered. "You might be able to help."

"This might be…tough to watch," Sean warned the younger man.

"I'm a big boy" came the curt response.

"Okay, then," said Robert. With a click of a remote, they were all watching Anna and Faison on the Annette.

_"You'd been with Lindsay. I think she actually loved you, you know," she recalled regretfully. "She wouldn't speak to me. I never spoke to her again. And then she died…." Tears ran silently down Anna's cheeks, carrying a guilt she'd never shown to anyone._

_"Ah, yes," Faison smiled menacingly. "Leukemia, was it? Is that what they said? Is that what they told you? Is that what her son thinks?"_

_"Aidan? What do you know about him? I didn't know about him myself…. But, yes, he knows about Lindsay."_

_"I'm sure he believes he does. Tell me: Does he know who his father is?"_

_Anna looked ill, with smoke still clouding her, and the Annette was heaving over swells. "Not you?" She ran to the side of the boat and retched into the churning waves._

_Faison calmly followed her, flicked the sputtering butt of the cigarillo over her head into the water, and none-too-gently raked her hair back, away from her face. "You learned betrayal early on, Anna. Don't play the innocent with me. Let's not pretend you never suspected."_

_"I didn't… No… I never…" Anna sobbed over the rail of the boat._

_"How could so many tragedies be coincidence? First your sister…. Then mummy and daddy-whoever would want to hurt them? Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, weren't they, when that car bomb detonated? Collateral damage, no? And poor little Anna, left behind, with no one but her old friend Faison to turn to. You never should have left the DVX, Anna. We took care of our own. We can take care of anyone. Do you see that now?" _

Robert stopped the replay. Aidan was stone-faced, his jaw clenched as hard as granite. But his eyes shone with deep emotion.

"Was it cancer?" Robert asked.

"Yeah. 'E's lyin'." Aidan quickly brought his fingertips up to swipe the outside corner of one eye and just as quickly drew them back again, curling them into a fist. They came away damp.

"You're sure?" Robert prodded.

Aidan looked at him pointedly. "You know cancer, I 'ear. So do I. She was my mum. I was there. I saw it. It was cancer. 'E's lyin'."

"About _that_," Sean added, in a leading tone of voice.

"And the rest…?" Robert picked up the thread.

"My grandparents? Agency says 'e's right about that. According to 'em, he took 'em out. That's all I know. I never met 'em. Mum never spoke to 'em, neither. They'd cut 'er off, she said. 'Er dad, Thomas, was a cold ol' bastard, she said. 'E didn't approve of 'er, any more, when she 'ad me. 'Cause she wasn't married. She didn't need 'em. She was smart, independent. We did fine, on our own."

"And your father? What do you know about him?" Robert finally cut to the chase.

"Nuffin'. I don't know who 'e is. She never told me anyfing. Like I said: We did fine, on our own."

"Okay," Sean sighed, grateful to have concluded that line of questioning. "Thanks."

"Thanks, mate," Robert repeated.

"Yeah," Aidan answered.

"So, Anna doesn't have her passport," Robert moved on, all business. "Duke found it."

"Won't matter," Aidan said dismissively. "Faison knows ways aroun' 'at. 'E's been livin' an' travelin' undetected for years."

"So we start with the local police. The stolen car," Sean planned.

"They've been helpful. Let's get on it," Robert agreed.

Anna didn't realize she'd finally slept until she woke again. Woke with the comforting presence and pressure of a warm male body curved tightly against hers, his breath stirring her hair, his chest rising and falling against her back, his girded loins to her buttocks, spooning her. For a few blissful moments, she was awash in relief, convinced that she'd woken from another nightmare.

As she drowsily turned her head toward him, Duke's name on the tip of her tongue that was thirsting for his kiss, reality crushed down upon her. Just as she registered the sickly sweet scent of Brazilian tobacco, she heard Faison's voice: "Sleep well, my love?"

Her skin crawled and she flinched away from him and would have bolted from the bed, but his arm came tightly around her, the gun in his hand. He raised himself up on his other elbow, looking down into her face, and pulled her closer to him, thrusting himself against her. "You were expecting someone else?" he taunted. He pressed the barrel of the gun beneath her chin, which she jerked away in defiance. He proceeded to trace her body with the weapon, the cold, hard steel scoring her throat and breastbone and jabbing at her navel.

"Cesar." An equal amount of rage allowed Anna to banish fear from her voice. "Your methods of seduction leave something to be desired. I'm here of my own free will, aren't I?"

"So you are." He was eager to forget the emotional blackmail and the armed hostilities that had gotten her there, and he was more than content to have her stroke his ego. He smiled and lowered the revolver. "My apologies. You will be…open…to further advances, then?"

"Of course," Anna lied, stalling for time. She rolled in the bed to face him. "You'll find I can be very…accommodating," she suggested, stroking the side of his face "But I won't be bullied." Her hand caressed his neck. "Understand?" Her fingers closed around his throat, and her knee came up sharply between his legs, pressing threateningly against his bollocks and erection.

"I think we understand each other," he hissed.

"Good…. Now, I'd like to have a shower. Freshen up."

"Of course." Faison's face was the picture of naked hunger, but he unwound his arm from her waist and let her go. "Go on. Get yourself cleaned up."

Passing by the tarnished mirror above the dressing table, on her way to the bathroom, Anna saw part of the reason for Faison's acquiescence: Her face and her rain-tangled hair were streaked with blood. Duke's blood, she realized, knowing that she was uninjured. She hurried into the washroom and slammed the door shut behind her, slumping back against it. She bit her fist so Faison would not hear her as she cried for the man she'd left behind. _Please,_ she thought, _just let him be safe. Just let Duke be safe now._


	15. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 7

"So you don't know anything else?" Robert asked Alex one more time.

"I'm sorry, no," she apologized impatiently. "Anna and I speak from time to time," she explained more tolerantly, "but I wouldn't say we're close. I'm afraid I'm not privy to my sister's secrets."

_You're not the only one_, Duke thought bitterly, listening from across the room.

"Right. Well, thanks for your help," Robert said.

"Not at all," Alex answered.

"I won't keep you any longer."

"Keep me posted?"

"Of course."

Alex approached Duke again. "I'll be in touch," she promised.

He nodded.

"You take care." She squeezed his left hand again.

And then Dr. Marick had gone, back to her home and her research and her husband, leaving Robert stewing in his frustration that she hadn't been able to provide any information other than the ID of Anna in the old video Renault had shown to Duke.

Duke watched the men huddled around the laptops, where they alternated between pecking at the keyboards and yammering into cell phones. And he watched Robert's wife hovering around them, pouring tea and coffee, silently facilitating the apparently pointless goings-on. Every time Robert's voice rose, each time he snapped shut his cell phone and lobbed it onto the desk in a fit of pique, Holly was there, her hand on his shoulder or at his elbow. Robert would look to her, and their eyes would meet, and he would return to the seemingly impossible task at hand, confident once more.

Perhaps he'd been wrong about the way of things between Robert and Anna, Duke realized. It was Holly, he saw, who inspired Scorpio as Anna had moved Duke himself. Perhaps, he hoped, that was the one thing Anna had spoken the truth about….

"So what've we got?" Scorpio asked, bending forward to lean his hands on the desk.

"Nothing," Donely summed up grimly. "They ditched the car, and that's where the trail ends. It stops cold."

"How can that be?" Robert yelled, pounding his fist on the desk. "Anna knows what she's doing! Why hasn't she given us some clue? She should've given us something to point us in the right direction." He glanced toward Duke, thinking of another time, another psycho, and a brooch sent as a message. Duke looked back blankly-it was something, one of many things, the man did not remember, Robert realized.

"Unless…," Holly spoke up.

"…Unless what?" Robert encouraged.

"Perhaps…," she continued, looking warily over at the battered man glaring from beside the window and thinking of what she would do if it were Robert who'd been used as a pawn, a bargaining chip, in a madman's personal delusions, "it may be that…she doesn't want to be found, Robert."

Hearing Holly's words, Duke was assailed by doubt [cue soundtrack" The Killers' "Mr. Brightside"]. His mind flashed…

_Robin showing him Anna and Robert's wedding portrait…._

_Anna telling him of her marriage to a brilliant doctor…_

_Anna liaising with the rock musician…_

_Anna declining his proposal of marriage…_

_Anna taking Faison's elbow and going willingly with him, out of this casino, to the Annette…_

_Anna insisting, "Let me go, Duke."_

He bolted for the door.

"Where are you going?" Robert asked accusingly.

But Lavery was gone.

Anna emerged from the scalding shower feeling marginally better. She was relieved and suspicious that Faison had left her alone. A worn but clean white spa robe, adorned with a fresh-cut orchid, awaited her outside the shower. She sniffed and shook her head in disbelief at the audacity of Faison's delusion. Did he actually believe that they were sharing some romantic rendezvous? She tossed the flower into the rubbish bin and slipped into the robe. He'd left her a hairbrush as well, and she peremptorily pulled it through her hair, wincing as it snagged in the wet tangles.

She cautiously, reluctantly, opened the door to the en suite boudoir and found Faison pacing again, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal. Upon seeing her, he stopped in his tracks. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you." She couldn't bring herself to move any closer to him.

Sensing her reluctance, Faison sat at the tea table, staring at her, the gun still in his hand, perched atop his knee. He was an exposed nerve, a filament of tensile energy. And his tension was contagious.

He was also growing impatient. "Some wine, perhaps?" he suggested finally, breaking the loaded silence.

She should keep her head clear, Anna told herself. She needed to think, to strategize. But she'd been trying all this time, to no avail. She still had no plan-or at least not one that didn't turn her stomach. She needed something to take the edge off, she told herself. "Okay. Yes."

Securing the gun in the waistband of his pants, Faison found a dusty bottle and a pair of glasses, expertly uncorked the vintage, and gave a generous pour of the aromatic red, the color of freshly spilt blood.

Anna forced herself to approach the table, where she picked up one of the glasses, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled. Already she felt calmer. She swirled the ruby liquid in the glass, her hand trembling.

"Nice legs," Faison commented, nodding toward the rivulets running down the inside of the glass and then looking pointedly down the length of Anna's body.

"Yes. Thank you." Anna took a nervous swig of the wine.

"To us," Faison toasted, reaching out to clink his glass against hers. "To old friendships. And new beginnings." He sipped. "Let it breathe a while." He set down the glass and reached beneath his jacket, into a pocket for the ubiquitous cigarette case and lighter. He withdrew a cigarillo and placed it between his lips.

"Let me," Anna said, curling her hand around his that held the lighter. He raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise and allowed her to take the lighter. She ignited it, he leaned toward her, and she held the flame to the end of the cigar. He inhaled deeply to coax a gleaming ember. Then he smiled in grasping satisfaction before expelling smoke through pursed lips, the haze further obscuring the darkened room.


	16. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 8

Robert stepped aboard the Annette and found Duke staring out to sea with a squat tumbler of umber liquid in his good hand. An empty bottle rolled on the deck, clinking like a lonely buoy bell against the exterior wall of the cabin as the boat rose and fell on the wake of passing pleasure craft. "She's pretty impressive," Robert said by way of greeting. "The boat, I mean." He got no response.

"Listen, I know how you're feeling," Robert forged on.

Duke's head swiveled sharply to glare at him, before turning back wordlessly to the open ocean.

"You're wondering if she's ever told you anything that was true. Thinking that you've been a fool to love her. Doubting that you ever knew her at all."

Duke remained silent, but it was obvious that Robert's words had struck home: Behind his tight-lipped scowl, his teeth gnashed, and his eyes narrowed and flashed with unshed tears. He lifted the liquor to his mouth and took a huge swallow, gulping it down and then swiping his mouth with his bandaged hand.

"You're wrong," Robert stated. "I've known Anna a long time. I know her better than almost anybody. And if there's one thing I know, it's this: You're It for her. Whatever she's done in the past, whatever's going on with Faison-it doesn't change that. This woman loves you, mate. Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't lose faith in her. And don't let her go."

Having said his piece, Robert turned and walked back off the Annette, leaving Duke alone.

When the footsteps on the dock had receded, Duke flung the whiskey glass in a great arc out over the water. As it splashed and sank to the ocean floor, he grasped the rail running around the side of the boat, hung his head, and wept.

Faison was growing malleable, Anna saw, under the influence of his wine and his opium. He had drained one glass and poured another, and Anna had kept pace with him, feeling in desperate need of liquid courage for what she was about to do.

"Renault…," she ventured, "…the man Duke killed? Was he the only one of your spies?"

"Perhaps," he answered, shifty as ever. "Perhaps not…. Whatever makes you think I would tell you that?"

"Because I've asked you. Because I need to know. I'm here with you. I've left Duke. But I care for him, you know that. If you and I are to move on together, if we're to have a future, I need to know that Duke is off limits. You must leave him out of this, from here on out."

"If you're giving me your word, Anna, you have mine." He pulled an iPhone from the same pocket that held the cigarette case, and a second later Anna was looking at an overhead shot of the Annette, with Duke aboard, his broad back hunched over the rail where his right hand rested in a gauze dressing. Faison still had eyes even on the pier, Anna saw. The bright halo of light around the image suggested that the camera was hidden in a lamppost high atop one of the pilings.

"Thank you," Anna exhaled. Seeing Duke, knowing that he was alive and safe and far away, made this both easier and, at the same time, more difficult.

"You're welcome." He lifted the slender brown cigarette to his lips for what seemed the thousandth time. The ten thousandth?

This time she stopped him, grabbing his arm to still it. "May I?"

He handed her the fag, smiling. She took a long drag, choking back the nausea while realizing that it was much less than it had been before, on the boat. She was building up a tolerance, she thought. One could become accustomed to almost anything, she supposed-even the intolerable.

She inhaled again, closed her eyes, and held her breath, letting the smoke fill her lungs and fog her mind, blurring the line between reality and nightmare. Of course, this reality was a waking nightmare, she mused with a growing detachment.

She opened her eyes to see Cesar watching her with a keen, coiled eagerness, like a serpent preparing to strike. She stepped closer to him, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and tilted her face up toward him. Then she pressed her lips to his, slid her tongue into his mouth, and breathed the opium-laden smoke into him.

He sank his hands into her hair and cradled her head. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, murmuring longingly, "Anna. At last, my love. So long, I've been waiting…."

He bent his head to hers and kissed her again. His dominant hand slipped beneath her robe, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her bottom, and he pulled her to him-and it wasn't until her body pressed the unfeeling metal hard against his hip that he remembered the gun.

His hand flew to it, but hers was already there. His abdomen exploded as the bullet tore through it with a sharp report.

"That's for Lindsay," Anna hissed. She took a step back, the weapon still in her hand, and fired again. "And my mum and dad." Faison had fallen to the floor, and Anna corrected her aim, farther up his torso, for the third shot: "And for making my daughter grow up without her parents." Faison's eyes were already vacant, but Anna's rage was just peaking. No more blood was spilt as a final bullet pierced his heart that had already stopped beating. "And that is for Duke…"-her monologue was broken by a sob-"and me. You manipulative, sadistic bastard."


	17. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 9

Ignoring Robert's insistence that the man should be left alone, Holly had managed to coax Duke back to the Monte Carlo, where he sat at a table in the security office chewing but not tasting a luncheon she'd ordered and letting a cup of strong Earl Grey grow cold.

Robert, Sean, and Aidan poured over the phone records they'd pulled from Anna's cell, still looking for nonexistent clues. Their shared muttering was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of Robert's cell phone. He flipped it opened, saw that the incoming number held no meaning for him, and jabbed the speaker button. "Scorpio here."

"Robert. It's Anna. I'm in a bit of a mess…."

_[Soundtrack: Cue "Smooth Criminal" by Alien Ant Farm]_

Scorpio shook his head, looking at what remained of his long-time nemesis in the dusty chalet. "Holy bloody hell…," he muttered, taking in the gruesome scene. "Remind me not to cross the ex-wife," he said under his breath.

"I guess it's a good thing that, officially, he was already dead," Sean observed.

"Yeah, that does make things easier," Robert acknowledged.

"And, the agency, they'd written off Anna anyway," Aidan pointed out.

"You hangin' in there, sweetheart?" Sean asked Anna.

"Mm-hm. I'm fine," Anna said automatically, robotically.

Before appropriating Cesar's iPhone and calling Robert, she had stood under the shower, again, until the water had run cold, until she'd been shivering, her teeth chattering, her fingers as wrinkled and cold and numb as if she, too, were a corpse. It had taken nearly that long before the tub had no longer looked a literal bloodbath.

When she'd finally emerged, she'd dripped all over the floor as she'd searched the room for a fresh towel to dry herself. Pulling open closets and drawers, she'd found entire wardrobes of expensive women's clothing-all her size, all redolent with the scent of orchids. She'd retreated to the bathroom and hurriedly pulled on her same wrinkled, sweaty, sick-spattered clothing that she'd been wearing since she and Faison had fled the Annette. The same outfit she'd so carefully chosen for the dinner with Duke that had never happened. Better that than anything Cesar had chosen.

Returning to the room where Cesar's body lay cooling, she had been unable to control her trembling. Her reaction had made no sense to her-she had killed before. But those incidents had always been business. This had been intensely, horrifyingly personal. And the rage that had sparked it had not been extinguished with Cesar. She'd still felt a gnawing, frenzied uneasiness.

Without thinking about what she was doing, Anna had approached the body, crouched down at its head, beyond the pool of blood and guts that clotted its lower half, and reached beneath what was left of the suit jacket. She'd removed the cigarette case and lighter, risen, and gone and sat at the tea table.

With shaking hands, she'd lit a cigarillo and sucked the smoke as a drowning woman would gulp the air before sinking beneath the waves for the last time. _Oh, god, that's better, _she'd thought. The powerful drug had calmed her almost instantly this time, with no ill feeling at all.

After the cigarette had burned down halfway, she had begun a second, more methodical search of the chateau. Her diligence had been rewarded when she'd found what she was looking for: Faison's humidor, full of the pungent, potent cigarros. She'd secreted it within an empty suitcase, covering it with the clothing she had no intention of ever wearing.

Only then had she gone to the body, once more, to retrieve the phone to call Robert.


	18. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 10

Holly was alarmed to see that Duke had put a considerable dent in another fifth of whiskey. The man was obviously coming apart at the seams. He and Robert had quarreled before the three agents had left to pick up Anna. Hearing Anna's voice emanating from the cell phone had roused Duke from his stupor. He'd left the lunch table and crowded Robert and his phone, calling her name.

Robert had maintained control of the conversation. "Where's Faison?"

"Dead," Anna's voice had intoned hollowly. "He's dead."

"And you?" Robert had prompted. "Are you alright?"

"Me? Yes. Yes, I'm fine." She'd been oddly reticent.

"Anna," Duke had broken in, unable to contain himself. "I'm coming. Where are you?"

"Duke?" She'd seemed surprised to hear his voice. "No. No, you mustn't. I have to talk to Robert."

"I'm here, luv," Scorpio had assured her. "Listen, it sounds like this is going to require at least an unofficial investigation," he had said pedantically to Duke. "You need to let us handle it."

"To hell with that," Duke had railed. "Anna, tell me where you are."

"No," she'd argued. She hadn't wanted any of this nightmare to touch Duke, to taint him. Faison's words had echoed in her head: _"He is loyal, your Lavery. Almost to a fault. It's touching, really. And incredibly naïve. How ironic that he'd pledge such devotion to one so faithless as you."_

"No," Anna had repeated, convinced now that she'd been fooling herself and lying to Duke when, on their wedding night so long ago, she'd said he'd taught her loyalty. She didn't deserve Duke's fealty. She'd contradicted him, once, when he'd so long ago declared, "You're an angel; you've always been an angel"-she'd tried to warn him, but she'd so desperately wanted to be worthy of the altar he'd erected for her. Faison had shown her that, without a doubt, she never could be: _"How will your darling Duke take the news, do you think? When he learns that you've betrayed every loyalty you've ever owed? To Lindsay and your parents. To me, and to the DVX. Even to Scorpio. And now to him."_

"No," Anna had said into the phone one last time. "I need Robert. Robert?"

"Right here, luv," Scorpio had promised again.

Sean had sidled close to the crushed Duke, put a hand on his shoulder, and led him away. "We don't know what's happened yet. We don't even know where she is, but I'm sure there's a good reason she doesn't want you there. Robert, Aidan and I will go. We'll take good care of her. I promise."

"We'll get a fix on you through your phone's GPS," Aidan had told Anna.

"Aidan?" Anna's surprise was the most emotion her voice had revealed.

"Yeah, it's me. We're comin', Anna."

"I'm going with you," Duke had insisted after Anna had rung off.

"No," Robert had contradicted. "You're not."

"The hell I'm not. You can't stop me."

"Maybe not. But you heard Anna. She doesn't want you there, mate. And I'm sure she has her reasons. So are you gonna respect her wishes? Or not?"

Duke had backed down then, his resolve eroded by doubt, and the other men had headed out, puffed up with a sense of mission. Holly had watched Duke struggle to understand why Anna would not let him help her. He'd seemed to think he could find the answer at the bottom of his Glenfiddich bottle.

"How can you shtand it?" They were the first words Duke had spoken since Robert, Sean, and Aidan had gone.

"Pardon?" _It speaks,_ Holly thought sarcastically, not entirely sure that he was addressing her rather than the scotch.

Duke approached her, unsteadily. "Anna calls, and Robert goes running. Doeshn't it bother you?"

"It bothers me tremendously, actually," Holly answered matter-of-factly, the upper lip of her sensual rosebud mouth losing none of its stiffness.

Duke wished he could feel a tiny fraction of Holly's stoicism, but he was being eaten up by jealousy. His mind was torturing him with the same montage, on automatic repeat:

_Robin showing him Anna and Robert's wedding portrait…._

_Anna telling him of her marriage to a brilliant doctor…._

_Anna liaising with the rock musician…._

_Anna declining his proposal of marriage…._

_Anna taking Faison's elbow and going willingly with him, out of this casino, to the Annette…._

_Anna insisting, "Let me go, Duke…."_

_Robert telling him, _"_Don't make the same mistake I did…. Don't let her go."_

_And now, Anna refusing to let him go to her, telling him, "No, I need Robert. Robert?"_

He wanted to lash out, to hurt Anna the way she was hurting him, and to make that smug, overbearing Scorpio sorry for underestimating Duke Lavery. He almost regretted becoming Duke Lavery again-it had been far easier to be Daniel Lund, a man who had never met Anna Devane, who had never loved her beyond everything and everyone else in his life, who had been able to find easy comfort and pleasure in the arms of many a beautiful woman. Like the beautiful woman standing before him now with defiant strength in her eyes….

He stepped close to Holly and whispered, "Robert Shcorpio is an arrogant fool, running off to Anna and leaving behind his lovely…charming…wife." He pulled Holly to him and kissed her with the full force of his frustrated passions.

Unnerved by the onslaught of sensual emotion, Holly was paralyzed for a moment-but only for a moment. She pulled away, and the flat of her palm met Duke's cheek with a loud, emphatic smack, snapping his face to one side.

He couldn't meet her eyes, staring at the floor instead. "I'm sorry."

"This never happened," Holly snipped, her eyes blazing as bright as the handprint she'd left on his cheek. She backed a few steps away from him, toward the door. "I'll have some coffee sent up." She tugged at the bottom of her blouse to smooth it. "I suggest you drink it. And then have one of the _gentlemen_ who work for you take you home." She turned on her heel and marched out of the room.


	19. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 11

Duke and Anna were each the worse for wear when she and the three agents arrived back in Monaco. Their reunion in the security office was awkward, stilted, with the men and Holly hovering in the background. The couple stood opposite each other, both destabilized physically and emotionally, and they nearly swayed forward and back on their feet, like a pair of Foucault pendulums, veering toward each other and then away again.

"Anna." Duke's voice was a mixture of longing and self-protective restraint. He loved her, so much, but dared not believe that she returned the sentiment.

"Hi." She was afraid to say anything else. There was nothing she wanted more than for him to put his arms around her and just to hold her-but if he tried she could not let him, because she no longer felt that she deserved to be there. She'd brought pain and destruction on everyone she'd ever cared about, Faison had showed her, and she refused to do that to Duke.

"You're okay? You're not hurt?"

"No. I mean, I'm fine." _I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine, _she thought, as if just repeating it often enough would eventually make it true.

"You killed Faison."

"Uh, yes. I shot him."

"You'd said you would."

"I did it. It's done. He's dead."

They stared at each other in silence, unable to fathom the other's thoughts, unwilling to trust their own hearts.

"And now?" Duke finally ventured. "We can be together?"

With tears in her eyes, Anna bit her lip and shook her head no. "I'm going home. To London." She would leave him in peace, she thought-leave him to his life. And the pain it would cause her would be her just deserts for all she had done.

"London?" Duke's heart broke at her apparent confirmation that she did not love him as he loved her-that she was going to leave him.

"To Port Charles, actually," Robert broke in.

Anna was suddenly animated again, angered at Scorpio's presumption. "No, Robert!"

"Your flat, Anna," Aidan stepped in to explain. "It's agency property, remember? They've issued your burn notice. This mess with Faison-you're compromised. I'm sorry."

"Of course," she murmured.

Sean wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "We'll leave tomorrow."

"I love you, Anna," Duke blurted.

If she told him the truth, if she said those three words back to him, he would try to convince her not to go, she knew. She could not let him do that. "I…I…" she choked out, and sobbed, thinking, _I love you, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry..._

Robert put an arm around her waist and led her away from Sean. She buried her face in his shoulder and hiccupped, trying to stop the blasted crying. She had to get out of here, she thought. She had to get away from all of them. She had to get to that suitcase, that box of cigars, that merciful elixir that would make this bearable.

Holly glared unsympathetically from her post behind the tea service.

Sean took Duke aside. "Look, we still don't know everything that's happened. She won't talk about it. Not even to Robert…."

Duke glowered, and grumbled, "Not even to Robert. Well, then…."

"Give her some time," Sean advised. "She's been through a lot. She and Faison had a lot of history."

_The man was dense,_ Duke thought. _Did he really believe he was helping?_ He looked over at Anna-Robert had released her and was whispering with Holly. Aidan had taken Scorpio's place at Anna's side, and she appeared to be pulling herself together. She was wiping her eyes with a tissue Aidan had given her, and she studiously avoided looking in Duke's direction. "I need to go," Duke heard her insist, and she tried to pull away from her nephew and head toward the door. "Now. I need to go."

"You can stay at my place tonight," Duke called to her. "I'll stay on the boat. I won't bother you." Perhaps Donely was right: If he gave her time, if she spent some time alone, in his home, perhaps she would have second thoughts. Perhaps she would remember what they'd shared-and what they could be to each other.

"Oh, no," Anna declined, distressed, thinking that if she spent some time alone, in his home, she would have second thoughts; she would remember what they'd shared-and what they could be to each other.

"Please," Duke said simply.

He didn't understand, she knew. She didn't want to hurt him any more. "Thank you," she said, and dashed to the door, snatching up the suitcase on her way out.


	20. Part 8: Angst in the Afternoon, Ch 12

Being back in Duke's bungalow was every bit as bittersweet as Anna had expected. She'd distracted herself, at first, with the mundanities of her toilette, finally changing out of her stale, soiled clothing and dozing in a hot bath. Afterward she'd dressed in clothing she'd brought from London by way of Port Charles, deliberately choosing an anonymous outfit that had no special association with the past few wonderful weeks with Duke.

Her next challenge was to occupy herself until she'd calmed down enough for sleep. She roamed the rooms of the flat, running a finger along the spines of the books on the built-in shelves, gazing at the small post-Impressionist paintings dotting the walls, taking an inventory of the well-stocked bar. She poured herself a generous drink and wandered into the bedroom.

The white bed sheets were still rumpled, just as she and Duke had left them, and the room smelled faintly of his cologne, his body, and the unhurried lovemaking that had left the linens in their continuing state of disarray. Anna hustled to the balcony door, slid open the glass, and stepped out for a breath of the salt-infused night air.

She could see the Annette, floating peacefully in the harbor, under the glare of the lamp post on the pier. She swore she could feel Duke's presence there. She felt drawn to him, as by an invisible force like gravity. How would she ever leave him?

She pulled Cesar's phone from her pocket and ran her fingertip over the screen, and there, beamed from the hidden camera on the pier, was Duke. He was on the deck, unwinding the length of bandage from his injured right hand. She could see his gorgeous, bruised, expressive face turned down into a pained grimace; she could see the angry, red swelling of his hand and the ugly black rows of sutures that cruelly crossed the lines of his palm. It was her fault that this had happened to him, she reminded herself. She would hurt him as surely as she had hurt her sister, her parents, Robert, and Robin. She couldn't let that happen.

She dropped the phone back into her pocket and pulled out another of Cesar's cigarettes and his lighter, hoping that would be enough to dull the pain.

On the Annette, Duke looked up toward his house. He watched Anna's willowy silhouette on the balcony, backlit by the lamp glow from the bedroom. He wished he knew what she was thinking, he thought, trying to distract himself from the ache in his chest by attending to the dressing on his hand. He wished he knew how to make her love him again-how to make her stay.


	21. Part 9: Angel with Demons, Ch 1

Robin opened her front door to find Anna standing on the stoop, suitcase in hand. "Mom!" she said in surprise, pulling Anna to her in a hug. "How was your trip?"

"Oh. Um…it wasn't what I'd expected. Not at all what I was hoping for, in the end."

"No?" Robin was perplexed. "Well, um, come in." She guided Anna into the living room. "Where's Duke? Is everything alright?"

"Things…aren't going to work out…between Duke and me."

"What?" Mom was making less and less sense, Robin thought. She was holding Anna's hand, and she led her to the sofa, sat, and pulled Anna down next to her.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. It's too hard to explain. It's just that…well…so much time has passed since Duke and I were together. So much has happened. I realized I'm not the woman Duke thought he knew."

"Is this all because of you and Daddy?" Robin let go of Anna's hand and covered her own mouth in a gesture of horrified contrition. "Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry I ever said anything to Duke. I had no idea..."

"Oh, no, it's not your fault, darling. Of course not." Anna reached out and tucked a strand of Robin's hair behind her ear. "And it's not Duke's. It's not because of your father and I. Not really. It's just.… It's everything. It's me. It's all due to me. I'm sorry, Robin. I know how much you love Duke, and how much Emma does."

Robin was at a complete loss. "Well, I mean, now what?"

"Could I stay with you for a while?" Anna asked. "Spend some time with Emma?"

"Of course, Mom. As long as you need to. Emma would love it. And you know Patrick and I are always glad to have you here."

"Well, I hope Emma is, at least," Anna made a game attempt at humor. "Not sure I believe that Patrick wants a live-in mum-in-law…."

"He won't mind. I promise."

"Thank you, Robin. Thank you. You all are just what I need right now."


	22. Part 9: Angel with Demons, Ch 2

The Scorpio-Drakes did not turn out to be nearly the distraction Anna had hoped for. They had their own busy lives-their own routines. Even little Emma had no time for her, what with preschool at GH's Tania Jones Center and all the playdates that her sweet-tempered nanny, Leticia, shuttled her to. Drs. Drake and Scorpio spent long hours at General Hospital, and Anna was loath to intrude on their precious downtime. She remembered too well what it was like to be a young wife and mother. Seeing her daughter so happy and so much in love gave her great joy-and at the same time, great pain, when she thought of her own love that she'd left in Monte Carlo.

The worst of it was that now she no longer had even the challenge of work to occupy her. It would've been so much easier to throw herself into a mission, to lose herself in a situation in which she had no personal stake other than completing a professional objective and getting out alive. And the risk of not surviving had never been so tantalizing, she thought as she sat at Robin's patio table filling a wine glass to the rim next to the tea saucer that she'd recruited as a makeshift ashtray.

Sooner than she'd expected, Cesar's humidor was empty. The craving-for Duke, and for the crutch that almost made the other urge bearable-redoubled itself. In the middle of her first semi-sober night, she woke with pangs of longing, and soon found herself dashing about Robin's house in a frenzy of manic energy, clearing up Emma's toys, washing loads upon loads of laundry, and clattering the dinner plates in the kitchen as she unloaded the dishwasher.

When awoken by the roar of a vacuum cleaner at 5 a.m., Robin knew something was wrong.

"Mom?" Robin yawned, stretching as she stumbled, half-blind, down the stairs.

"Oh, hi, darling," Anna spit a lock of hair out of the corner of her mouth. She was still in the clothes she'd worn the day before….and the day before that…and the day before that. "I was just doing a little tidying up. Trying to help out. Earn my keep and all that."

"Um, thanks. The housekeeper is coming today. You know that, right?"

"Oh. Sure. I'm just trying to keep busy, you know?"

"Mom." Robin's voice was full of sympathy and regret, as she realized that in the hurly-burly of daily life and her own problems she'd somehow forgotten the heartache that her mother was struggling with. "Do you want to have lunch today? Maybe talk a little bit? I know I've been busy lately. You could meet me at GH…."

It occurred to Anna that she had better cover up. Here she was, making things difficult for her daughter now. Why must she always cause such grief for everyone...? "You don't have to do that. I know how busy you are."

"Please, Mom. I want to," Robin smiled. "Really."

"Okay, then," Anna acquiesced.

"Say, one o'clock?"

"That would be wonderful. Thank you."

Robin kissed her and headed back upstairs to get ready for work.


	23. Part 9: Angel with Demons, Ch 3

At five minutes to one, Anna knocked on the door of her daughter's office at GH. "Come in," she heard Robin call out. She slowly opened the door and entered, finding Robin on the phone at her desk.

"One minute," Robin mouthed, holding up an index finger and looking remarkably like her father for a moment. Mom was uncharacteristically disheveled, she noticed. It looked as if Anna hadn't changed her clothing since that morning, and her hair was in serious need of a brush. Anna sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, but didn't relax. She looked ill at ease, fidgety, her eyes darting around the room, at the computer, the diplomas and plaques on the walls, the filing cabinet with Emma's drawings taped to it.

In another 30 seconds, Robin was able to end the call. "Okay. I'll check on him during rounds this afternoon. Thanks." She hung up. "Hi. You ready to eat?" She stood up-and immediately got a text message. "Sorry," she said, checking it. "I've gotta take care of this. Can you wait? I'll be just a few minutes. I promise."

"Yeah. Yeah, go on," Anna urged.

Robin sped from the office. Sitting in the chair with her legs crossed, Anna chewed her thumbnail, then her lower lip. Her toes tapped a nervous tattoo on the floor, as she continued studying her daughter's office.

Her own phone rang, and she looked at the number. _Oh, no, not again_, she thought. It was Duke. It took every ounce of her willpower to ignore his calls, to erase his messages without ever listening to them. She knew that if she spoke to him, if she allowed herself even the temptation of hearing his voice, she would never be able to keep her vow of giving him up. And she _had_ to give him up, she reminded herself: for _his_ sake.

She shoved the ringing phone deep into the bottom of her purse and hung her head in her hands, rubbing her temples and plugging her ears and rocking backwards and forwards in her seat. Suddenly, she leaned forward in her chair, toward the desk, cocking her head to look at the paperwork on its surface. She shifted to the edge of the seat, then stood up. She reached out and pulled something toward herself. A prescription pad. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, and she started to sweat. She remembered when Robert had been in hospital, for his cancer treatment. The drugs he'd been given had been so powerful-he'd been incognizant of reality, almost impermeable to pain. Such dreams he'd told her about-almost hallucinations, really. He'd thought he was back in the townhouse he'd shared with Holly, and all his friends had been there: Sean and Tiffany, and Luke, and Robin and herself.

What she wouldn't give to block out her own pain for a little while. To lose herself again in delusions of Duke. Cesar's drugs had helped her to do that, but those were gone now….

She snatched up a pen, scrawled out the name of the drug Robert had taken-Oxycontin?-and forged Robin's signature. She started to rip off the scrip, and then stopped and hurriedly shoved the entire pad into her purse.

Just as she dropped back down into her chair, Robin returned, saying, "Ready?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Definitely. Let's go."


End file.
